


Without Expecting

by wistfulwatcher



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 86,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wistfulwatcher/pseuds/wistfulwatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not typical, and it's not what she would have expected, but for everything it's not, she thinks that what it might be, just for now, is a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Compliant up until 2x18, "Born This Way," though it takes place at Nationals (no spoilers for anything past 2x18). Written for prompt: taking care of a child, washing machine.

They’d come in second. It was their first time at Nationals, they were up against several very talented schools, and really, they deserved second place. That knowledge didn’t keep Rachel from pouting, just a bit.

“Rach, you did a great job,” Finn was elbowing her as they walked down the corridor of the hotel.

Ducking her head, she smiled and exhaled through her nose. “I know. Everyone did. I just—“

“Who beat Vocal Adrenaline?!” Behind her, Puck was pumping his fist in the air and when she turned to look, she couldn’t help but really smile. It was true, they  _had_  beaten Vocal Adrenaline. The loss of Jesse St. James and Shelby Corcoran as director really set the team back, and it had given the New Directions the edge they needed.

First place, however, had ended up going to a club from a small high school in Colorado. Like New Directions, the Lionheart Lyricists wrote their own, original songs, and were experiencing Nationals for the first time—neither had really been prepared for the other, but the Lyricists had edged them out, just a little.

The rest of the club was dancing and laughing behind her, and Rachel couldn’t help but smile and join in. They hadn’t won, but they had done very, very well, and for once the team hadn’t experienced game-changing drama beforehand. Everyone was in a pretty good place with each other, Rachel noted, as she glanced to Finn at her side.

After her Barbravention, of which Finn was a vocal proponent, the two had come to a sort of stabilized relationship. It wasn’t romantic, at least not like it had been, though she suspected she’d always carry a small torch for Finn. But they had formed a tentative co-captain friendship, and it had proven to be what the club needed. With their tumultuous love saga dissipating, they’d all been able to focus on Nationals, and really prepare.

Rachel stopped in front of the girls’ room, smiling at Finn as he patted her on the shoulder and walked to his room. “We did good, Rach.” She nodded, before sliding her key into the slot and walking into the room, followed by Mercedes, Quinn and Brittany. They’d arrived the night before the competition, on Tuesday, and Mercedes had agreed to be Rachel’s bed buddy, while Quinn bunked with Brittany. (Santana had immediately taken the remaining single bed in the room with Lauren and Tina to herself, walking away from Brittany without another word.)

Rachel sat on the edge of her bed, taking off her performance heels. The tall pumps never bothered her onstage, but it was always a relief to take them off after the adrenaline ran out. Mercedes spread out on her side of the bed, groaning, and Quinn and Brittany both sat down on their bed.

“We did good and all, but I really want to win next year,” Mercedes grumbled around the arm she’d thrown over her face. Rachel nodded, rubbing her foot, before getting off of the bed and dropping her shoes in her duffle bag by the window.

“I can’t believe those Colorado kids. I mean, who was expecting that?” The sound was muffled, now that Rachel was farther away, but she could still make out Mercedes’ words.

Rachel ran her hands over her dress, turning back to the beds. “No one, according to the forums. Their talent is almost unrecorded—I can’t believe they made it through Regionals without alerting someone. It’s actually very unusual…” Before Rachel could muse on that thought, the rest of the club knocked and came in, easily pushing open the propped open door.

The guys claimed space quickly, and the club ended up sprawled on top of each other on the beds. Rachel sat of the floor next to Mike, smiling as he handed her a red cup. Warily, she looked inside before seeing that the cup was empty. “What’s the cup for?”

Before Mike could answer, Mr. Schue came in with four bottles of sparkling cider and his own cup. Rachel laughed, and Brittany held up her cup with, “But we didn’t win.”

Mr. Schue shook his head, passing around the bottles. “Ah, but you did come in second, and you beat Vocal Adrenaline, so I’d say these are quite deserved.” The club cheered, passing around the bottles of juice and devolving into laughter.

The club stayed together, talking for a while, until Mr. Schue excused himself and went back to his room. Everyone got louder after that, but Rachel noticed Quinn staying quiet on her spot against the headboard.

Rachel stood, excusing herself from Tina, Mike and Brittany, and sat across from Quinn, on her own bed. After Rachel’s relationship with Finn had shifted, and they’d gone to the plastic surgeon together, Quinn had stopped picking on Rachel so much. Rachel suspected it had a little to do with how quickly the term “Lucy Caboosy” had made its way through McKinley. They, too, developed a tentative friendship, though it was similar to how she imagined she’d treat a co-worker. Still, Quinn’s silence during the party was strange, so Rachel asked, “Quinn? Are you all right?”

Quinn looked over to Rachel and gave a small smile, nodding. “Yeah, thanks.” Rachel wasn’t quite convinced, and though she didn’t want to pry, she also didn’t want to risk alienating Quinn further by not making sure she was alright.

“Are you sure? You haven’t really been talking to anyone.”

Quinn narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t ask you to keep tabs on me, you know.” Rachel just looked down, shifting, until Quinn sighed. “I’m sorry. Thanks for checking. I just…I’ve been thinking about Beth.” Rachel looked up to see Quinn wringing her hands in her lap.

“Oh.” Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to say, and fortunately, before she could offer an only-mildly-related-story, Quinn cut her off.

“Shelby moved to New York last year, you know.”  _Oh._  Actually, Rachel didn’t know. She shifted again, sliding her hands under her thighs, and clearing her throat.

“Are you thinking about calling her?” Puck made a crash near the door, and they both turned to see him righting a small table with a sheepish grin, before they looked at each other again.

Quinn shrugged, pulling her knees to her chest. “I…I think so. I just, she has my  _daughter_ , you know?”

Rachel nodded. She did know, in a way. She’d spent sixteen years knowing she had a mom out there that she’d never met, wondering if the mysterious woman had ever even thought about her. Rachel considered telling Quinn, explaining exactly how well she understood, but she bit her lip instead as Quinn got up.

Watching as Quinn crossed the room, Rachel saw her lean down, reaching into her purse and coming back with her phone. Quinn looked at her, holding up her phone and said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

No one else seemed to notice as Quinn left, so Rachel just leaned her head against the headboard, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Thinking of Shelby was painful—more so than Rachel thought it would have been, after almost a year since she’d seen her last.

Still, as Rachel waited in the loud room, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and closed her eyes, thinking about how  _Quinn_  knew Shelby was in New York and Rachel,  _her own daughter_ , had no idea. The thought left a strange taste in Rachel’s mouth, and as she reached for her empty cup, she wondered why it hurt so much that Quinn had Shelby’s phone number.

As Rachel felt a stinging at the back of her eyes, Quinn came back in and made her way to her spot across from her. Rachel hesitated, but eventually whispered, “What did she say?”

Quinn’s cheeks were very pink, and Rachel could tell she was holding in a nervous smile, by the occasional twitch of her lips. “She’s meeting me here tomorrow morning, with Beth.” Rachel gave Quinn a show smile, mumbling some words of encouragement before she got up and excused herself.

Stepping quickly over the various legs sprawled out on the floor, Rachel made her way into the hallway. Once outside the stuffy hotel room, Rachel leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. Really, she wasn’t sure why, exactly, this was so upsetting. So Shelby hadn’t wanted to be  _her_  mom. She’d assumed as much merely by the fact that her mother had left her.

Running her fingers through her hair, Rachel wandered down the hall, wanting to walk a little. As she migrated toward the elevator at the end of the hall, Rachel felt herself getting angry. Why should  _Quinn_ have Shelby’s number? Why should  _Quinn_  know where Rachel’s mom lived? Why was it always  _Quinn_? They’d been doing so well, treating each other with respect after Finn went back to Quinn, but Rachel was feeling it all start to bubble up.

She changed course, heading back to their end of the hallway, before Rachel leaned against the wall opposite their door, her shoulder blades banging against the wall harshly. Sliding down to the floor, Rachel tucked her legs up, pulling them against her chest.

Exhaling, Rachel tried to calm herself down. She wasn’t mad at Quinn, not really. But, for all the reasons she had to be, she wasn’t mad with Shelby, either. At that thought, she heard the door to her left open, and Mr. Schue stepped out. “Rachel? Are you OK? I heard a thud.”

Blushing, Rachel realized her teacher was in pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, what she assumed was an undershirt. She shook her head quickly, “I’m fine, Mr. Schue. It was just getting a little crowded in there.”

Mr. Schue nodded, before replying, “OK. You guys should get some sleep, soon. Lots of sight-seeing to do tomorrow, and you all earned a day of fun.” He smiled at her and she returned it, before he shut the door.

Rachel stood, slowly, and walked back into their hotel room. Rachel didn’t want to kick everyone out, not when they were having so much fun, so she just walked over to her duffle bag, and grabbed her pajamas, before ducking into the bathroom to change.

While she slipped on her t-shirt and sweatpants, Rachel heard more laughter and cheering from the beds. Stepping out again, she hung her dress up with the other girls’, and sat back down on her side of the bed.

“Hey, Berry. What were you doing?” Puck walked over Tina and Mike, sprawled by the foot of the bed, and stood in front of her.

She gave him a half-answer, shrugging her shoulders and saying, “Mr. Schue thinks we should go to bed soon.” Quinn, smiling from her bed, nodded.

“I think we should, too. We have a lot planned for tomorrow.” Some of the guys nodded, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and slowly, the rest of the club filtered out, Tina and Lauren stepping through the adjoining door into their own room, where Santana had spent the past few hours, despite most of the club trying to get her to join them.

Once it was just the four of them, the girls stood, changing and brushing teeth, before they all crawled into their respective beds. There was small chatter between the four, with Mercedes and Brittany doing most of the talking in the almost pitch-black room, and Rachel mused that this was what a sleepover was supposed to feel like.

Turning to her side, facing away from the other girls, Rachel noticed that Quinn wasn’t saying much, and wondered what exactly she was thinking about. Was she nervous to meet her daughter for the second time? Excited? Was this actually only the second time? They’d grown closer over the past few weeks, she’d even called her “friend” to her doctor, but they certainly weren’t to secret-sharing, so anything was possible, really.

Despite her focus on Quinn, Rachel wondered what Shelby was thinking, too. Was she scared to let her daughter meet her biological mother like Rachel had assumed her dads would be? Was she planning on visiting the whole club? Was she planning on visiting Rachel?

The thoughts bounced around her head as she drifted off, fitfully, and as her eyes fluttered shut, she thought Quinn’s shuffling was a sign that Rachel wasn’t the only anxious one.

()()()

The alarm clock in the room went off at 8:00, and Rachel was grateful to sleep in for a change. The hotel room, plus the adrenaline from the previous night and her jumbled feelings about Shelby made sleep quite difficult, and, looking over at a wide-awake Quinn, she thought it was much of the same for her.

Rachel slid the covers back, against a still-sleeping Mercedes, and dropped her feet to the ground, getting up to get ready. She grabbed her duffle and shut the bathroom door, trying to move quickly. Her shower was as long as she dared to take, considering Quinn was meeting Shelby in just two hours, and she dried off hastily before dressing and moving out of the bathroom.

Quinn brushed past her in the doorway, and she wondered if Quinn was upset with her. Glancing at her phone, she exhaled as she confirmed she’d taken less than a half-hour. Rachel tried to shrug it off, figuring Quinn was just nervous, but she couldn’t help the kernel of doubt that Quinn blamed her, just a little, since Shelby was her mom.

Rachel slipped her earbuds in, turning on her workout music, and focusing only on curling her hair in the mirror on the back of the door. Around her, Brittany and Mercedes were talking, but she only turned up the volume and kept twirling her hair around the hot metal.

Finally feeling refreshed, Rachel unplugged the iron, wrapped up her iPod, and swiped on some foundation and mascara. As she slid the tube back together, she heard a knock at the door. Rachel moved to the door, pulling it open.

Mr. Schue stood on the other side, back in his dress-shirt and jeans everyday look. She smiled, and he asked if they’d be ready to go at eleven. Rachel thought of Shelby, and wondered if they would, but just nodded and said, “We will, Mr. Schue.”

As she closed the door she saw him walk down the hall to the other rooms they were occupying with the guys. When she turned around, Quinn was dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the closed bathroom door.

Brittany was already dressed, as she’d showered the night before, so Rachel realized Mercedes was taking hers. She wondered if Quinn was still doing OK, and took in her appearance. She was wearing a yellow sun dress, much like the ones she’d worn through her pregnancy, and her hair was held back with a white headband. Rachel hesitated, but sat down next to Quinn, her own green halter dress shifting as she sat.

“Quinn?” The blonde wasn’t looking at her, so Rachel tried again.

“I just need some quiet right now.” Rachel froze before nodding, and moving to stand again. She shifted uncomfortably by the door, and glanced at the alarm clock: 9:40. Quinn wasn’t moving, just sitting and staring, and suddenly Rachel got really nervous. Quinn hadn’t looked this pale since right before Sectionals, when Finn had confronted her about the paternity of her daughter.

Rachel was wringing her hands, trying to figure out if she should go tell Mr. Schue, but before she could decide, the phone rang. Mercedes looked up, before reaching for the phone when it became obvious that Quinn wouldn’t. “Thanks, she’ll be right down.” Mercedes hung up the phone and Rachel watched Quinn’s face as she added, “Quinn? Shelby’s waiting downstairs for you.”

The shift was so quick, even Rachel, who’d been watching, couldn’t see the tears coming before they hit. Her face was growing red as Quinn’s lips started to tremble, and big tears started to pool in her eyes, before spilling over and down her cheeks.

“I…I can’t, I’m changing my mind.”

Rachel stepped forward, reaching for her hand. “Yes, you can. Beth—“

“No! I can change my mind! I can’t do this,” and Quinn stood, finally.

Rachel started to walk over, and she caught Mercedes’ eye, but the other girl just shrugged her shoulders. “Quinn, I’m sure Beth will be happy to—“

“NO! OK, Rachel? I said no. I just—you don’t understand, OK?” And Quinn’s voice was getting much, much louder. Rachel could feel herself shrinking, stepping back, and then there was a knock.

Rachel hesitated, but Quinn wasn’t looking at her, just sitting on the bed again, her face in her hands, so Rachel opened the door. Finn, Puck and Mike were in the hall, and they all stepped in when Rachel stepped back to reveal a crying Quinn.

She’d started to breathe heavily, and then Finn looked from his girlfriend to Rachel, his eyes shifting around quickly. “Is she having a panic attack? Quinn?” He tried to step forward, but Quinn just wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head.

“I can’t, I was wrong, I don’t want to see her!” A jolt of ice shot down Rachel’s back at that, and she stepped away, leaned against the wall by the door as the three men tried to comfort her. Another knock sounded, and Rachel opened it again to reveal Mr. Schue and the rest of the club.

“Rachel? What’s going on?” Rachel gulped and stepped back again, as Mr. Schue took in Quinn’s sobbing form on the bed. He turned, telling the others to stay out for a minute, before stepping in and closing the door. “Quinn? What’s wrong?”

Mr. Schue’s voice was soft as he asked, and Rachel couldn’t help the stab of jealousy at his tone. He was never soft like that with her. The thought felt wrong, when Quinn was in such obvious distress, but she could only look down and lean back against the wall.

Quinn was shaking, trying to push Finn away from her, and her sobs were growing in volume as she gasped out, “You don’t understand!” Rachel could tell Quinn was angry, but also thought that she seemed mostly scared, and probably felt very guilty.

Mr. Schue looked at Rachel, confused, and she realized he probably had no idea what was going on. She cleared her throat, and raised her voice so Quinn could hear her. “I’m going to go downstairs, OK? Quinn? I’m going to tell Shelby you changed your mind.”

Rachel could feel Mr. Schue’s eyes as he tried to decipher the origin of the situation, but she just watched Quinn, waited until she saw her nod, as she clung onto Puck, who’d started to stroke her hair softly, while muttering, “I understand, OK? I do.”

Rachel stepped back, slipping through the door quickly, and was stopped by the rest of the club in the hallway. Rachel tried to explain quickly, mostly begging them to give Quinn a minute, before rushing to the elevator. As the doors closed, Rachel watched the bulk of the club talking in the hallway, trying to listen to what was happening in their room.

Her head was spinning as she reached the lobby, but when she stepped out she was greeted by a blast of cool air. Across from the elevators was a small set of chairs and couches, arranged in a small but open lounge area. A head of dark, thick hair stood above the back of the couch, and Rachel could see a small face peeking over the shoulder.

Stepping forward, Rachel could see the small girl more clearly. She was absolutely gorgeous, all big green eyes and chubby cheeks and smile. As she neared the back of the couch, Rachel could almost swear the toddler was smiling at her, not at the tickling fingers Rachel could see play against the baby’s sides. “Is this your belly?”

 She heard a low, familiar voice question the little girl, and Rachel couldn’t help but say, “Mom?” She knew it wasn’t what she was supposed to say, Shelby had told her that wasn’t what she was, but as she watched the older brunette be so nurturing, so loving, so  _motherly_ , she couldn’t help but pretend, just for a moment.

Shelby stopped her tickling of Beth, and turned her head, holding Beth to her as she stood up to face her daughter fully. “Rachel. What are you doing here? I thought Quinn want—“

“She’s having a panic attack.” Rachel dropped her hands from her stomach to her sides, trying to stay poised, no matter how uncomfortable she felt. “I volunteered to come down here.” Her fingers twitched against her dress.

“Oh.” Shelby shifted in front of her, sliding Beth to her hip, as Beth’s tiny fingers fisted into her blouse, and rested her blonde head on Shelby’s shoulder, her eyes watching Rachel’s movements. “I heard you guys beat—“

“Is this Beth?” Rachel didn’t want to talk about glee, the tournament, anything other than what was in front of her, this unexpected family.

Shelby nodded, and Rachel walked around the couch, coming to stand by the other end of the couch. She was shifting, bouncing the little girl slightly, so Rachel sat, letting her mother know that she wasn’t ready to stop talking.

Hesitantly, Shelby sat down, facing Rachel from the other end. She watched Rachel’s face for a moment, but the younger brunette didn’t waver, just sat there, watching the baby in her mother’s arms.

Finally, Rachel caught Shelby smile out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, I’m sorry. Beth, this is Rachel.” The toddler gripped Shelby’s shirt tighter, but lifted her head, watching Rachel in fascination. “Can you say ‘hi’ to Rachel?”

Beth smiled, flashing Rachel a mouth of tiny teeth, before lifting one hand free and waving. Rachel couldn’t stop the grin that broke out as she waved back. “Hi, Beth. And how old are you?”

“15 months next week,” Shelby said, her eyes not drifting from the girl in her lap.

Rachel bit her lip. “It doesn’t seem possible, that only 15 months ago—“

“Rachel, I don’t think—“

“Can I hold her?” Shelby seemed hesitant, Rachel watched her grip on Beth’s hip tighten slightly, so Rachel added, “I’m kind of her sister, after all.”

Shelby nodded, curtly, before she scooted closer, and waited for Rachel to put her arms out. Once she had, Shelby handed Beth to Rachel, and Rachel helped situate the little girl in her lap. Looking down at her, Rachel smiled as Beth smiled up, her hands pushing against Rachel’s stomach curiously. Before Rachel could react, Beth was pulling at her dress and lifting herself up, until she was standing on the couch between Rachel’s legs, their faces now at the same level.

“Well, Hi.” She was smiling, despite her surprise, and Rachel watched a small hand shoot out and touch her nose.

“Nose!” Rachel caught from in between toddler jabber. Rachel laughed, no longer self-conscious about the large appendage, and ran her hand over Beth’s spunky pigtails, her bangs short and plastered to her smooth forehead.

Rachel wanted to laugh, make a joke about even babies giving her grief about her big nose, but when she looked over Beth’s shoulder at Shelby, she caught the pained look on her mother’s face. A tugging on her neck brought her back, and Rachel looked down to find Beth focused on her gold star necklace, her fingers wrapping around it in between small tugs.

“Ouchie!” She said with a smile, and watched Beth copy her before dropping the chain.

“Rachel, I—Beth and I better get going.” It hurt. It hurt the most of all the thoughts over the past night, because it wasn’t something she was  _thinking_  Shelby might feel—this  _was_  Shelby, telling Rachel that she had time for Quinn, but not time for Rachel.

Rachel just nodded, smiling despite herself as Beth reached for her nose or necklace (she couldn’t be certain) while Shelby hoisted her to her hip and murmured a goodbye as she turned to go. Over Shelby’s shoulder, Beth was waving, and smiling, and Rachel felt the tears sting behind her eyes as she waved back.

She dragged herself to the elevator after that, idly pressing the buttons to her floor and closing her eyes at the feel of the ascent. When the ding signaled the doors opening, Rachel exhaled and opened her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief that the glee clubbers were no longer in the hallway.

Rachel slid her key into the lock, startled to find the same group she’d left in the room. Quinn had stopped crying and struggling for breath, and was now just sitting against the headboard between Brittany and Santana (the latter really throwing Rachel for a loop). Puck and Finn were sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the cheerleader, and Mr. Schue was leaning against the wall by the door. From their bed, Mercedes, sitting next to Mike, asked if Shelby was gone.

Rachel nodded, and looked over at Mr. Schue. His eyes looked soft, and she figured he knew what was going on by this point. She also couldn’t help but notice he looked a little upset, and she realized that he was probably hurt that no one had told him what was going on.

Rachel looked at Quinn again to find the blonde looking back at her this time. “Was Beth down there?” And Rachel thought it was obvious that  _yes, that was the reason for all of this_ , but instead she just nodded.

With a shrug of her shoulders, she hazarded a smiled, and added, “She looked really healthy, and happy, Quinn.” At that Quinn’s tears started anew, and when she was met with a combination of glares and sympathetic smiles, she felt Mr. Schue’s hand on her shoulder. She turned her head slightly, looking at him, and he gave her a sad smile, before squeezing her shoulder. Letting out a breath, Rachel closed her eyes to him in a silent show of gratitude.

After that, Mr. Schue left, and their room descended into silence, as Rachel figured everyone was too afraid to upset her like Rachel just had.

No one came by the room, and she figured Mr. Schue had warned them all to stay away until Quinn was better, and she was grateful. The silence lasted what felt like hours, and as she watched the clock flick to 11:32, she realized that sight-seeing was probably cancelled. She didn’t blame Mr. Schue—after her blunder earlier and her conversation with Shelby, she was fairly content to just lay on her bed.

A few minutes more passed, and Rachel was still reflecting on her conversation (or lack thereof) with Shelby when Quinn’s cell phone rang. Brittany was the one to pick it up, and hand it to Quinn, who reluctantly took it from her.

Her voice was a weak, “Hello?” when she finally answered, and Rachel didn’t want to eavesdrop, but what was the alternative? “Shelby Corcoran? But, her baby—is her baby all right?”

Rachel’s heart started to race as she looked from face to face of her glee mates, trying to decipher Quinn’s conversation. Quinn was nodding then, not speaking, until finally she agreed, and hung up the phone.

Her voice catching, Rachel asked, “Quinn? What’s going on?”

Quinn’s voice wavered to match, and as Brittany rubbed her back, she choked out, “Shelby was in a car accident.”


	2. Chapter 2

The room had been silent, but after Quinn’s announcement, the air seemed to freeze as another silence all together blanketed the room. After a beat, Rachel leaned forward, her chest pounding as she whispered, “Is she OK?”

Quinn shook her head and Rachel’s fingers fisted into the hem of her dress as her vision grew blurry. Her head was pounding and she couldn’t help but regret her own lack of action earlier that morning; Shelby, her  _mother_ , had been right in front of her, and she’d let her go, hadn’t asked her to stay, wait for one more moment, just waved at her almost-sister in her mother’s arms.

 _Beth._ “What about Be—“

“She’s fine, she’s not hurt. Shelby, she’s unconscious, in the hospital.” Quinn was shaking between the other cheerleaders, but a flood of hope took up in Rachel’s chest at her words. When Quinn had shaken her head she’d assumed the worst, but unconscious, unconscious was bad, but not fatal, necessarily.

Finn stood when no one asked another question, and came back a second later with Mr. Schue. Rachel looked up at him, feeling a tear spill over, and watched him cross the short distance to the beds. “Quinn, what happened?”

That same sharp edge of jealousy stung Rachel’s spine, this time followed by an even bigger rush of guilt. Mr. Schue’s obvious concern about Quinn wasn’t what she should be focusing on, not when Shelby was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines, and Beth was with God knows what relative.

Briefly, Rachel wondered if Shelby even had any other family—they’d never quite gotten to that point of conversation. Before she could formulate another question, Finn asked, “Why’d they call you?”

Quinn shut her eyes, shrugging her shoulders. “I was the last person she called. They said there was no contact information anywhere else.”

“Who’s watching Beth, then?” The question left her lips before she could censor it, and Quinn started to shake harder.

“I don’t know, all right?” Brittany leaned into her friend, and Santana glared at her from the other side of Quinn.

Rachel stood, quickly, and picked up her purse from the corner of the room. “Rachel, what are you doing?”

She looked at Mr. Schue quickly, startled to find all eyes on her. “I’m going to the hospital.” The confusion on their faces was unexpected, and she tucked her purse closer to her body, suddenly self-conscious. “She’s my mother.”

They seemed to accept that, and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief before reaching for the door. “Rachel, I can’t let you go there alone.” Mr. Schue stopped her with a hand on her forearm, pausing her grip on the door handle. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and her mouth bent down in a frown. He met her eyes for a moment before he closed his own, and turned to look at the group. “Will you all be all right here alone for a few hours?”

Rachel held her breath until the kids all nodded, and Finn gave a half smile, “We’ll be fine, Mr. Schue. I’ll let everyone know what’s going on.” He nodded, and let go of Rachel’s arm, letting her open the door. As she stepped over the threshold, she felt his hand low on her back, guiding her out before he let go and shut the door.

As soon as he dropped his hand from her back she felt it again, as he guided her the short way across the hall to his own hotel room. He stepped in front of her and opened the door, tossing, “This’ll just take a minute,” over his shoulder before he moved further into his room. He held the door a moment until she took it, stepping a foot into his room, but not daring to follow him in completely.

Mr. Schue scurried around the room, picking up his wallet and cell phone. While he did, Rachel couldn’t help but look around the space, noticing immediately his suit hanging on the half-open bathroom door, his small suitcase sitting neatly on the dresser, and a small row of hair care products on the sink in the bathroom. As he slid on his jacket with a, “Let’s go,” she stepped back, but caught sight of the bed; the left side, nearest to her was straightened but a little rumpled, however the right side was still completely made. Mr. Schue moved toward the door and she turned, letting him step out and close it, as she wondered if Mrs. Schuester used to sleep on the right side.

They both walked the length of the hallway in silence, and Rachel looked up at him quickly, feeling the slightest loss when he didn’t put his hand again on her lower back. He cleared his throat as they waited for the elevator, but didn’t say anything until the doors were shut. “Which hospital was she taken to?”

Rachel shut her eyes as she realized she’d never asked. “I’m not sure, actually. I’ll ask.” She pulled out her cell phone, texting Finn quickly. She knew he’d have to ask Quinn, anyway, but after the way the morning had gone she thought it would be better to have him relay the information.

The text came back a second later, and she showed her phone to Mr. Schue, who just nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I think I know where that is.” She put her phone away and the doors opened into the lobby. Mr. Schue stepped out and Rachel followed him across the open room and out of the hotel.

He stepped up to the edge of the sidewalk and looked down the block, raising his hand up and signaling a taxi a block away. Rachel stopped beside him as the taxi slowed, looking up to notice him chewing on his bottom lip. He waved at the cabbie and opened the door, letting Rachel slide in. As he followed her movement she couldn’t help but wonder why, exactly, he was so worried. She couldn’t really remember them talking to each other, with the exception of the meeting with Figgins when Finn and Puck had slashed all those tires.

She remained silent as he directed to cabbie to St. Luke’s Hospital, and smoothed out her skirt, sticking her hands under her thighs and looking out the window. Traffic was terrible, and the longer it took them the more she shifted on the scratchy seats. Her hands slid from under her legs to grip the edge of the seat, her knuckles whitening as they stopped again.

“Hey,” Mr. Schue was trying to get her attention, she realized, and looked over at him slowly. He looked uncomfortable, but he was offering her a small smile, so she matched him. “Shelby’s going to be fine.” She wanted to point out that he didn’t know that, he hadn’t even seen her, but instead she just nodded and looked back out through the window.

When the cab finally stopped in front of the hospital he pulled out his wallet and paid the driver, before he got out of the car. As he leaned against the door, he held out his hand for Rachel, and she couldn’t help but duck her head as she took it, and let him help her out of the backseat. Once she was standing he dropped her hand and shut the door, before pausing a moment to look at her.

His eyes felt very much like pity and she shook her head, walking into the hospital. His pity wasn’t the softness she’d seen toward the others, toward  _Quinn_ , and she just pulled her purse closer to her as she approached the front desk.

When the woman looked at her, she suddenly realized she had no idea what she was doing; she’d never had to go to a hospital alone before. Mr. Schue’s voice was low beside her, as he asked her questions for her, and she remembered that she wasn’t alone, not really. As the woman directed him down the hall she remembered the words she’d told Kurt at the beginning of the year, how they’d sung together.

“Rach? This way,” and then he was moving, and she was following. There was a pressure in her head and her mouth felt so, so dry. She thought talking would help, but she had nothing to say as she followed her teacher to her mother’s hospital bed.

As they neared room 306, they both slowed. Her door was open, and Mr. Schue paused outside of it, letting Rachel decide if she wanted to go in or not. She nodded to him and brushed past him, into the room.

Shelby was lying on the bed, under white blankets, and Rachel couldn’t stop the gasp that left her throat. She could feel Mr. Schue shifting behind her as she looked at the machines around her mother, the beeping resonating in her ears as she caught sight of the tube in Shelby’s throat.

“I need to get some water,” she whispered, but he must have heard her because he was following her back into the hallway, following her to the drinking fountain a few feet away. She pulled her hair back quickly and bent slightly as she pressed the silver button harder than necessary.

The water was warm and tasted of metal, but she was suddenly so  _thirsty_ , and she was lapping it up. Her hair was falling from her hand, but as the strands shook loose and brushed her cheek she felt strong fingers mimic the movement. Mr. Schue swept the loose stands back to her hand and she took them from him, closing her eyes as she continued to drink.

Her lungs were starting to burn with the effort, but Mr. Schue rested his hand on her upper back and started to rub soothing circles, so she took a few more sips. Her thumb slipped off of the metal, and she righted herself as she dropped her hand and let her hair fall loose again.

She looked up at Mr. Schue’s face, and couldn’t stop the embarrassed smile as she saw the concern on his face. “I’m sorry. Let’s go back,” and she walked away from him, feeling the cool air where his hand had been.

When they entered the room again a doctor was standing at the foot of the bed, scanning the chart that rested there. He looked up at the two of them and Rachel blurted out, “How is she?” The doctor hesitated and she gulped before adding, “I’m her daughter.”

The doctor put the chart back down and slid his hands into his coat pockets. “She came in with a small cerebral contusion and some blood loss. We’ve given her a transfusion, but she’s been unconscious for almost two hours.”

Rachel knew she was smart, understood a lot of things, but as the doctor rattled off an explanation she stopped herself from asking him to just tell her why her mom had a breathing tube down her throat. Instead she squared her shoulders as she crossed her arms and asked, “So what does that mean? Is she going to wake up?”

The doctor looked from Shelby to Rachel. “Cerebral contusions usually heal themselves. Your mom is lucky, hers is fairly minor for an accident like hers.” He was still talking, but Rachel felt her fingers fist at hers sides, and glanced at Mr. Schue. He was still listening, so she faced the doctor again. “The main concern now is that her brain will swell. As long as that doesn’t happen, her contusion should heal itself.”

Rachel gulped and shifted just a little bit closer to Mr. Schue before looking down and nodding. Beside her, he asked, “How long do you think it’ll take her to wake up?”

A beep sounded, and Rachel looked up again to see the doctor looking down at the small box in his hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t know right now. But she seems to be doing fine so far, and that’s a very good sign. Excuse me,” and he left the room.

Neither of them said a word for a moment, until Mr. Schue walked over to the two chairs against the wall. “Rachel, come sit down.” She did as he said, taking the seat next to him as he matched her movement. “It sounds good, Rach. I think—“

Before he could finish his sentence, a nurse entered the room. Both of them stood immediately, and the young woman walked over to them. She looked sweet, a kind, warm face framed by a short, auburn bob, and she smiled at Rachel as she neared her. “Are you Quinn?”

Rachel shook her head, and gestured to Shelby. “No, I’m her daughter.” Mr. Schue’s hand slid over her shoulder and squeezed, and it reminded her of earlier in the day, when the worst part had been Shelby’s hasty retreat from the hotel.

“And you’re her husband?” She felt his hand slide quickly from her shoulder and caught him sticking his hands in his pockets out of the corner of her eye.

“No! No, I’m her teacher.” The nurse looked confused, and Rachel felt the smallest of smiles at his misinterpretation of her question. There was a pause and then, “Ah, I’m  _her_  teacher,” and she could tell he was looking at her from his place at her side. He cleared his throat and the nurse smiled at Rachel.

“Are you here to pick up your sister, then?” Rachel looked confused, and looked to Mr. Schue.

He was just as confused, so she turned back to the nurse and asked, “Has no one else come for her?” She thought about the little girl she’d just met, how she’d smiled at her and pawed at her with her tiny hands.

The nurse shook her head. “We didn’t have any other contact information, just the last number she’d called. Your sister’s sleeping right now, but she’s fine. The doctor checked her out, and gave her the all clear. Are you able to take her home? It’d be best if she could be around her family.”

Rachel shifted, but thought about Beth, how Quinn had refused to see her this morning, and before she could stop herself, she said, “Yes. Yes, I’ll take her.”

When the nurse left the room, Mr. Schuester cleared his throat. Rachel turned slightly to look at him, and felt a jolt of guilt at his worried expression. “Rachel, how do you expect—“

“I can’t leave her here, Mr. Schue. “ She thought he wanted to say more, tell her exactly why this was a bad idea, but before he could the nurse came back in, the sleepy toddler in her arms.

Rachel couldn’t stop the smile at the sight of her kind-of sister, and held open her arms. Beth’s eyes opened slowly, and Rachel felt the blood drain from her face as she thought about how the little girl would react. Sure, she had been playful with her earlier, but her mother had been there, had been right behind her, and now—

Beth rubbed at her eyes, and Rachel saw her mouth open as she started to cry. Rachel’s fears were suddenly realized, and she wondered how she could fix this. Before she could drop her arms, Beth reached out for her, and the nurse passed the toddler into her arms.

Beth fisted at her nose again, and she would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been what it was. She buried her small, wet face into Rachel’s neck and wrapped her chubby arms around her. Her fingers tugged at Rachel’s hair, and Rachel closed her eyes, supporting Beth’s bottom with her forearm, and pressing her own small hand to the little girl’s back.

Her legs were dangling on either side of Rachel, but Beth didn’t seem to care, so she just hugged the girl tightly and stroked her back. At her side, she heard Mr. Schue clear his throat and he stepped closer to the nurse, asking, “How serious is her condition?”

Rachel turned as he nodded at Shelby, still stroking Beth’s back. The nurse smiled gently at Rachel and she was grateful for the acknowledgement. “She’s doing really well. She just needs some time, now. We’re monitoring her closely, but unless she starts to swell, she should wake up in few days.” The nurse walked over to Rachel, and patted Beth’s back.

“She was crying for a long time after she came in, understandably. She could probably do with some lunch and a nap.” Rachel smiled, feeling better after her reassurances and being able to see the small girl in her arms. She thought it was strange, she hadn’t given her little sister much thought, but after seeing her earlier that morning, after seeing how Shelby had played with her, had held her and loved her—Rachel mused wistfully that it could have been her, years ago.

Mr. Schue thanked the nurse, and she promised to call with any updates. Before she could leave, Rachel asked, “Did she come in with her keys?”

The nurse nodded and promised to be right back with them. In her absence, Rachel focused on the small girl who was still sniffling against her neck. She felt awkward as she swayed, knowing her teacher was watching her actions. Still she murmured to her, letting her know it was all right, she was safe.

“Here you go,” the nurse came back with a small bag, but before Rachel could reach for the purse, Mr. Schue took it, thanking her once more before she left.

“Um, Rachel, how do you think this is going to work?” His words seemed snide, but his tone was anything but—he was speaking slow and gentle, and she felt a small thrill as she turned to see his eyes matched. The softness that had never been directed at her was, just a little, and she wished it had not come at the cost of  _this_.

“I think I need to go to Shelby’s house, and get her some food, like the nurse said. After that, I think I should try to find out if Beth has a nanny, or babysitter or something.” He seemed to accept her answer, and smiled at her before gesturing for her to leave the room first.

Beth had quieted considerably in her arms, and she shifted her arms around as they stepped into the elevator, not used to the weight of a child. She and Mr. Schue stepped to the back as a few more passengers got on, and rode in silence.

The entire ride she could feel his eyes on her, and she shifted, uncomfortable. She knew he wasn’t thrilled with their situation, wasn’t sure how exactly this was going to play out, and she didn’t blame him. But she couldn’t help but dismiss the importance of that as the blonde toddler started to push against her, leaning back.

Rachel tightened her grip as they stepped out of the elevator, nervous that her movements would free her from her grasp. Mr. Schue led the way out of the building, and Rachel looked down at Beth’s wet eyes. There was more toddler garble than earlier that morning, but Rachel made out “momma,” and gave Beth a show smile. “Yes, momma’s OK. She’s just sleeping right now, Beth. So I’m going to stay with you for a while.”

The little girl looked skeptical, but stopped pressing against her, so she breathed a sigh of relief and walked through the automatic doors to outside. “Do you know where Shelby lives?” Rachel shook her head at his question, but gestured at the bag in his hands.

“You could check her wallet, it should have her license.” She swayed, keeping Beth quiet in her arms as he followed her directions.

“It looks like she lives in SoHo.” Rachel nodded, though she admittedly didn’t know exactly how far away that would be. Mr. Schue repeated his earlier actions and waved down a cab. He opened the door for her, but she hesitated. “Do you want me to hold her while you get in?”

Beth sniffled against her again, and she shook her head. “No, I can manage, thank you,” and she slid in, holding the little girl close to her as she scooted over. Once she was settled, Mr. Schue got in and, again, directed their driver.

Mr. Schue was watching her again, she could feel it, but when she looked over at him, she realized he was focused on Beth.  _Of course_ , she closed her eyes, realizing that Beth had almost become  _his_ daughter. The complexity of the small bundle in her arms was startling, so she ran a hand over her back and pressed an absent-minded kiss to her head.

Rachel couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face as she realized how sweet Beth smelled— _like flowers and summertime_ , and she rolled her head a little to look at Mr. Schue. This time he met her eyes before ducking his head, embarrassed she’d caught him looking at the little girl.

The rest of the ride wasn’t long, wasn’t nearly as long as the ride to the hospital, now that she’d been reassured that Shelby should be fine. A part of her, of course, was worried, knew that things could go wrong no matter how promising the patient’s condition. But then Beth would grip her hair tighter, or sigh against her and she’d tell herself to calm down, that Beth didn’t need anything but hope that her momma would be back soon.

The car parked in front of a small apartment building and after paying the driver, Mr. Schue got out. Again, he offered his hand to her, and she took it, letting him help her. Rachel readjusted her purse and followed him to the door. She took in the building, feeling a little guilty to be going into Shelby’s house when she so clearly didn’t want Rachel around anything of hers. But the nurse had told Rachel to feed Beth, and she would. Mr. Schue fumbled with the key ring containing her house key, but finally got it, and opened the door to the first-floor apartment.

It was lovely. The apartment was tasteful and elegant and exactly how Rachel would have decorated.  _The magic of genetics_ , she thought, and watched as Beth looked up, taking in her own house. There was more jabber around “momma,” and Rachel shook her head. “No, sweetie, your momma is asleep, remember? But she’ll be back soon, OK?”

Beth wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, and Rachel smiled, reaching for the box of Kleenex by the entryway. She held the girl with one arm and propped her on her hip while she brought the tissue to her cheeks, drying them before dabbing at her small nose.

Rachel looked at Mr. Schue and gave him an awkward smile, not quite sure what to do, now that they were here. “Maybe we should start looking for the name of a nanny?” He nodded, and dropped the bag of personal effects on the kitchen counter to his left.

The apartment was pretty open, with the kitchen space to the left of the door, the boundary established by a marble counter with two barstools. The living room sat directly in front of them, consisting of a long couch creating the edge of the room, a coffee table in front of it and a small entertainment center against the wall. To their right was a small hallway, which she assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. “I’ll put Beth down and help you look.” She turned from him, then, and headed down the hallway. On the left side there was a door to the bathroom, and directly ahead she could see was Shelby’s room. Turning to her right, she pushed the door open and found Beth’s nursery.

Rachel stepped up to the crib, and gently lowered Beth down. The little girl looked up at her, watching as she smiled down at her, before stepping back to scan the room. There were toys and a changing table, a small bookshelf and a rocking chair, but Rachel didn’t see any papers. She knelt down and looked at the bookshelf, but after a moment she came up empty.

Standing, Rachel caught Beth still watching her, and went over to the toddler with a soft expression on her face. “Do you have a nanny, missy?” Beth didn’t respond, of course, so Rachel just lifted her up again and headed back into the living room.

Mr. Schue was standing in the kitchen, looking at the refrigerator. “Did you find anything?” Beth was perched on her hip, now, her fingers gripping the gold star chain again. Mr. Schue turned and shook his head, before he stepped back.

“I didn’t find anything with any names on it.” Rachel frowned, and moved to the kitchen counter, sitting Beth on the edge of it. The blonde stared up at her while she played with the chain, and Rachel shifted nervously.

“Mr. Schue? I think I should stay here, with Beth. There’s no room at the hotel, and I don’t think Quinn could handle being around her, not after this morning. Besides, all of her things are here, and since it won’t be very long—“

He shook his head, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter opposite her. “I can’t leave you alone, Rachel. Especially not with a baby.”

She stared at him now, narrowing her eyes just a little. “What other options are there? Beth needs me right now.”

He looked at her, bracing one hand on his hip. “Rachel, do you even know the first thing about taking care of a child?” The softness she’d seen a glimpse of earlier was gone, now, and she wondered if it had been directed only at Beth.

The thought stung, so she looked down at the little girl and not at him as she asked, “Do  _you_?” It was mean, she knew it was, and wasn’t even what they were fighting about. But Beth was sitting in front of her on the counter, her little legs dangling over the side, and Rachel knew she couldn’t bear to part with her, not yet. Not when she’d been hugging her so tight in the hospital.

He didn’t say anything, so she hazarded a glance at him. With his arms crossed over his chest he leaned against the counter, watching them as Beth pushed at her stomach and gurgled. Quietly, she shrugged a shoulder and lifted Beth back onto her hip. “I’m sorry, OK. I shouldn’t have said that. But we can’t just leave her at the hospital and hope they find her family.” She looked down, not wanting to see his reaction as she added, “And we are, in a way. Her family.”

Beth was pawing at her chest so she watched her, smiling. “I still can’t just leave you here alone.” Rachel didn’t have an argument for him, so she just tucked a stray hair behind Beth’s ear and waited. “I guess, I guess I can stay with you for a while.”

Beth gurgled, and she didn’t know which of them she was smiling at, but she looked back to Mr. Schue as he continued. “The bus isn’t supposed to pick us up until Saturday morning, so we have a little time to figure something out.” She assumed he was talking this through for himself, so she just listened and let him.

“I’ll call Finn and let him know what’s going on, see if everyone is doing all right.” With that he nodded and started to head into the living room. Before he got there he turned, and added, “You should call your dads and let them know what’s going on. Make sure they’re all right with… _this_.”

She wondered what he was going to say instead of “this,” if he meant them staying in her bio-mom’s home, or if he meant them staying alone together. Either way, she set Beth down again and dropped her purse next to her, smiling when Beth started to dig in it.

“Uh uh,” she warned playfully, and took out her phone. The little girl seemed amazed at the shine from the pink cell phone, and watched intently as Rachel called her dads. They’d left for a cruise the night before Nationals, so she wasn’t too hopeful she’d reach them. Still, she tried, and when she got to the voicemail she left a message.

Slipping her phone back into her purse, Mr. Schue stepped up beside her, smiling down as Beth started mouthing the strap of her purse. She smiled back at him around the strap as he ran a hand over her short blonde hair. Rachel watched the softness play across his face, before he caught her eyes and cleared his throat. “Finn says everyone’s fine. They went out to get lunch across the street, but they’re all back, now.”

Biting her lip, she asked, “Did you tell him we were staying here?” He furrowed his brow slightly at her phrasing but nodded.

“Yeah, he said everyone was fine with it, and they were going to stay out of trouble.” Rachel couldn’t stop a worried smile from crossing her face.

“You know Noah will have alcohol in less than an hour, right?” He laughed at that, fully, and she suddenly felt much, much lighter.

“I’m pretty sure that’s an underestimation.” He looked back at Beth and added, “I made Finn promise they’d be careful, and I said I’d be checking in on them.” Rachel started to point out how little that promise meant, but Mr. Schue cut her off. “I have to trust them, Rach. Like you said, we’re a little low on options right now. Besides, they’ll all be together, at least.”

Rachel wanted to point out that  _that_  was the problem—she’d been with them, all together, and it ended with washing machine repair and hastily refilled bottles. But she was getting what she wanted,  _needed_ , so she just smiled at him and turned to Beth. “Is it time for lunch?”


	3. Chapter 3

Beth looked up at Rachel, her fingers still flexing against the green cotton of Rachel’s dress. “What do you want to eat, Beth?” Mr. Schue stepped back, and went to the refrigerator.

“It looks like there’s some apple juice in here. We could make some pasta, maybe?” She watched as he opened a few cupboards until he found a box of ring noodles and set the box on the counter. Pulling the purse strap from Beth’s mouth, she scooted the girl off of the counter and back onto her hip, before moving over by him, and opening a few more cabinets until she found a sippy cup.

“Mr. Schue? Will you hand me the juice?” He looked over and nodded, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the pitcher.

Rachel tried to unscrew the lid with one hand while she held Beth, until he murmured, “Here,” and set the pitcher on the counter before taking the cup from her hands. The brush of his fingers on hers was unexpected, and though he’d touched her more today than ever before, this was the first chance she’d had to really absorb the feeling of his skin on hers.

She felt herself blush as she thanked him, and watched as he filled the cup before screwing the lid back on. “Want some juice, Beth?” The blonde was watching him curiously, but reached out her hands to take the cup from him, one handle in each hand. She kept watching Mr. Schuester as she put the spout to her mouth and tilted the cup, drinking eagerly.

Rachel laughed at her enthusiasm, and wondered if there wasn’t the slightest bit of actual relation between the toddler and herself, thinking about her own dry mouth earlier that day. “It makes you thirsty, too, huh?” And this time it was two sets of eyes on her, confused, so she just smiled at Mr. Schue and asked for a pot so they could make the noodles.

While he searched she bounced Beth slightly, not enough to disrupt her beverage, but enough to be soothing. Beth leaned her head against Rachel’s shoulder while she drank, and watched as Mr. Schue filled the pot with water.

The silence of the apartment was only punctuated by the clang of the pot on the stove as he started boiling the water. After a minute he leaned back against the counter. He was watching Beth again, and Rachel was surprised at how strange it made her feel. She wasn’t used to being overlooked (between her bossy attitude, her wardrobe and her voice it was a fact she’d come to count on), but at the same time it felt oddly freeing to be completely certain she was being ignored; no whispers behind her back to fear, just a sense of calm as she watched Mr. Schue watch Beth.

She was swaying, now, no longer bouncing the little girl who was now holding her cup with one hand. “Rachel,” Mr. Schue whispered, reaching out to take the cup from Beth. “I think she’s asleep.”

She did her best to look down, to see, but the thin bangs hid Beth’s eyes so Rachel took his word for it. She smiled, stroking the toddler’s back, before telling him, “I guess she needs a nap.” Rachel left the kitchen area, heading down the hallway into the nursery. Reaching into the crib, she pulled the blanket back and tried to figure out how she was going to put her down without waking her.

“Need some help?” Mr. Schue walked into the room and Rachel nodded, reluctantly, a little embarrassed since she’d told him not a half-hour ago she could handle this on her own.

“Will you lower the side?” He did as she asked, and Rachel smiled her thanks, before leaning down and setting Beth gently on the mattress. Once down, Beth shifted a little and Rachel’s breath caught, hoping she hadn’t woken her. The toddler just kicked her legs a little, and Rachel realized she was still wearing her shoes.

She reached for the first one, a cute pink tennis shoe, and she opened the Velcro, sliding it off. Mr. Schue copied her movements on the other foot before taking both shoes and setting them on the small dresser next to the crib, and she couldn’t help but draw a parallel to Grace and Mr. Warbucks in  _Annie_.

He faced it again, and pulled the blankets to cover her, before they both took a side of the gate and pulled up, securing her. When she turned to leave he followed, and as she left the room she made sure to turn on the baby monitor by the wall, grabbing the other one and heading down the hall.

Back in the hallway she shifted, suddenly very self-conscious without the baby, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. She was wearing a short white sweater, but without the warmth of the toddler she felt very cold.

“Are you hungry?” Mr. Schue brushed past her and walked back into the kitchen where the water was boiling.

She hadn’t thought about it, but suddenly the thought of food was very appealing. “Very. Are you?” He nodded, so she walked around the counter and stood by the stove with him, setting the monitor down. He opened the refrigerator and leaned in, digging into the crisper drawer. An unexpected smile twisted her lips as she realized how domestic her teacher looked right then. When he spoke it was muffled, but she still made out, “There’s some rice in the cabinet. How does stir-fry sound?”

She blushed, grateful he was offering something she could eat, and said, “That sounds great. If you hand me vegetables I can start chopping.” He did just that, turning to hand her a pepper, onion, mushrooms, and some pea pods.

She set them on the counter nearest the living room and turned to find a bowl in the cabinet. While she washed the vegetables she caught him pulling out a few bottles before opening the food cabinet and pulling out some rice. She was watching him, making sure he was doing it right, without meaning to. When she caught herself she bit her lip and turned her back so she could chop the vegetables.

Rachel could hear him searching for a frying pan as she scraped the contents of the chopping board into a bowl, before reaching for the green pepper. When she looked over her shoulder he was pouring liquid from one of the bottles into a bowl, and he had a jar of spice in the other. She inwardly groaned and prayed he knew what he was doing as she went back to her task. Biting her lip to contain her comments, she reminded herself that he was letting her stay with Beth, and that she should at least try not to challenge him.

With all of the veggies in the bowl, she lifted it and turned toward him, where he was whisking the sauce. “Here you go.” She hesitated, before finally asking, “What’s in that, exactly?” He smirked at her nervous face, and took the bowl of raw vegetables from her.

“Are you allergic to anything?” She shook her head and he poured the thick brown sauce into the bowl of vegetables, before shaking it and dumping it into the frying pan. “Then I guess you’ll just have to trust me.” His words heavy, but he sounded playful, so she just looked at him and smiled, putting her hands on her hips.

With a fake exasperated sigh, she said, “If I have to,” and watched as he slid the pan back and forth, making sure they cooked evenly. She was so mesmerized by his movements that she actually jumped when a cry sounded from the baby monitor.

She didn’t wait another moment, just turned and walked into the nursery to find Beth’s blonde hair falling out of the pigtails, her eyes red, and her nose running as she stood against the bars. “Oh, honey, you’re OK,” and she felt her heart warm as Beth reached out her arms for her. Rachel put her hands under her arms and pulled her out of the crib, holding Beth close to her chest and rubbing a soothing hand up and down Beth’s back.

Rachel murmured soothing words as she bounced as she had earlier, hoping it would work. Beth was talking into Rachel’s shoulder and she couldn’t make out anything, but she assumed it was about Shelby. She shifted hips, putting Beth on her right side, and turned to go back out of the room, only to find Mr. Schue there. “Do you think she’s hungry?”

Rachel shrugged her shoulders, and said, “I would imagine so, she fell asleep before she could eat earlier,” before following him back into the kitchen. She held the toddler as Mr. Schue refilled the sippy cup, and then handed it to Rachel. “Beth? Sweetie, do you want some juice?” The little girl looked up and nodded, taking the cup in her hands again and drinking.

When she looked back, Mr. Schue had a cup of applesauce and a spoon. “We could try this first, see if she’s hungry now.” Rachel nodded, and gestured to the high chair against the wall by the counter.

“Will you open the chair?” He nodded and did so, and Rachel set Beth down. The little girl squirmed and started to reach for her, but Rachel just took the applesauce from him and opened it, putting it in front of Beth and giving her the spoon. “Here you go, Beth. Eat up,” and smiled, waiting for her to take a spoonful.

Instead, Beth just stared back at her. Rachel tried to encourage her again, pushing it closer before taking the spoon back and trying to feed her herself. The little girl furrowed her brow and squirmed in her seat. From behind her, Mr. Schue asked, “Can I try?” Rachel stood and nodded, handing him the spoon, though she doubted it would make a difference.

She leaned against the counter, watching as he slid one of the barstools from the other side of the counter over to the high chair, and sat down. Watching his back shift, she heard murmurs from him and the smile in his voice. She couldn’t help it and smiled back at the sound, amused as Beth seemed to soften at his voice and listen to him. After a minute, Rachel saw him lift the spoon to her lips and she opened, ate the applesauce.

He threw a grin over his shoulder to her and she let her mouth drop open slightly in surprise, mostly at the playful glint of superiority in his eye. After a few spoonfuls from him Beth took the spoon, and continued to feed herself.

Both continued to watch the little girl eat, her fingers awkward on the handle of the green plastic spoon, and Rachel tilted her head at the determination in her small movements. However, she grimaced as Beth’s grip faltered and a large glob of applesauce dropped onto the front of her pale pink romper. The toddler was unfazed as she continued to eat, and Mr. Schue let out a little laugh.

He reached out his hand and scooped up the food with his forefinger, before standing and washing it off of his skin in the sink. As he dried his hands, Rachel mused that he seemed different—calm and unstressed, and almost happy. The word  _domestic_  resonated in her ears again and she wondered how long, exactly, he and his ex-wife had been trying to have a family.

“I guess we should have looked for a bib,” he joked, snapping out of her thoughts and causing a guilty smile to cross her face.

“I guess we should have,” she laughed, blushing when he looked at her with a smile. He turned back toward the sink, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it, before sitting back down in front of Beth. As she continued to eat he wiped at the applesauce she’d managed to get on her cheeks and chin.

Rachel suppressed a snort when Beth loosened her grip on the spoon, letting it fall to the table as she stared up at Mr. Schue with unbelievably big eyes. Once he was finished cleaning her up she pushed at her high chair table, squirming. Her movements pushed the spoon off of the plastic edge and onto Mr. Schue’s knee, before it landed on the floor.

Rachel couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled up, and when he began to chuckle Beth joined in, baring her small teeth as she clapped. “I guess she’s done,” he laughed, and Rachel just nodded as she went to stand next to him. She put her hands under Beth’s arms and pulled her out of the chair, and took her over to the couch, sitting down and setting Beth on her lap, facing her.

Beth was squirming, so Rachel asked her in a high, sweet voice, “Do you want to color?” Beth just pawed at the v-neck of her dress, so Rachel looked over her shoulder at Mr. Schue. When she did she caught sight of the pot and pan on the now-cool stove, and realized he’d been most at ease when he had something to do, a goal, so she asked, “Could you grab a coloring book and crayons? I saw some on her bookshelf.” He smiled and nodded, pushing himself away from the counter he was leaning on and walking down the hall to the nursery.

Beth started shifting again in her lap, eventually pushing off of Rachel and crawling to the other end of the couch. Rachel watched her movements and crossed her legs as she propped her elbow on the back of the couch and rested her head on her fist.

A jolt of panic hit her veins as Beth started to push herself to the edge of the couch, her socked feet dangling over before she slid herself to the ground. When the little girl giggled as her feet met the floor Rachel sighed in relief and watched her stumble toward the TV with heavy footsteps.

“Do you want to watch some TV, Beth?” she asked, as the toddler smacked flat palms against the buttons at the bottom of the set. The little girl looked back at her and nodded, before sitting down in between the TV and the coffee table by Rachel’s feet.

Noticing a remote on the table she picked it up as Mr. Schue entered the room again with a few coloring books and a small box of crayons. She turned it on and flipped through a few channels until she found a kid’s cartoon and set the remote back down.

Immediately, Beth stared at the screen and started to giggle, and Rachel felt a surge of pride that she’d picked a good show. She pulled her legs up underneath her, and couldn’t help but watch as Mr. Schue knelt on the ground by Beth. “Beth, do you want to color?” He repeated her question and Beth stopped watching to look at him, nodding. She was talking, making random vowels sounds, but Rachel thought she heard “color” and smiled when she reached her hands out to Mr. Schue.

He opened one of the books and set it in front of her before opening the box, too, and shaking out a few crayons. Again the familial feel of the whole situation was sudden and uncomfortable, so she pretended to watch Curious George and ignore the flutter in her stomach.

When she looked back Beth was leaning forward, hunched over the pages between her feet, sitting like only a toddler can. Mr. Schue stood and walked over to her, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. She looked at him and they smiled awkwardly, before they focused their attention back to the TV.

Curious George was failing to keep her interest, so she watched as Beth colored a Disney Princess, wincing as Belle’s face was made orange. Still, Beth’s messy pigtails were too adorable, and she sighed contentedly before resting her right elbow on the arm of the couch and held her head up with her hand. The words she’d sung to Finn just a few months ago rang in her ears and she remembered how she’d wanted a sibling her entire life, and how, it seemed, she now had one.

Hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and Rachel felt a shiver as she felt Mr. Schue’s eyes on her. She thought, suddenly, how they’d lost Nationals. He’d been happy, supportive all last night, had told them they’d done a great job. But she couldn’t help but wonder how he really felt. She knew how much he’d wanted to win, how much he’d wanted to show everyone how good of a director he was (and, though it pained her to say it most days, he  _was_ ).

Turning her head to look at him, she saw that his pose mirrored hers, but due to the angle of the couch he was virtually facing her, so she turned, bringing her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. He seemed to grow uncomfortable under her stare so she smiled sadly. “Are you angry that we lost?”

That seemed to snap his attention back, and he tilted his head a little. “At you guys?” She nodded, and he frowned, shaking his head. “Not at all. What gave you that idea?” He looked uncomfortable, like he’d made a mistake and was being called out on it, so she just shrugged her shoulders.

“Rach—No, not at all. You were all great—incredible. I’ve honestly never seen you all perform so well together, I was so proud.” She sensed more, so she glanced at Beth and kept her mouth shut. “But to be honest,” he hesitated so she looked back at him, waiting. “I just thought we were going to win this year. I mean, that you guys were going to win.”

He looked so sad, then, so lonely, and she wanted to put her hand on his shoulder, offer some comfort. But he was on the other end of the very, very long couch, so she just smiled sweetly at him and looked up through her bangs when she whispered, “ _We_  did win, Mr. Schue,” and she remembered telling him those same words last year. The repetition seemed contrived, like she was just saying the words she was supposed to, but at the same time they felt honest, more honest, even, than they had after that first painful loss.

He titled his head a little, and she concluded that he was trying to decide which it was, but before he could, Beth let out a high pitched giggle as she clapped her hands around a blue crayon. The other two laughed quietly, the moment broken, and Rachel leaned against the end of the couch to watch the little girl.

It was amazing, she thought, dreamily, that she could be so content to watch another person color. But there was something about her, the sweet, innocent, happy toddler that couldn’t understand words like “unconscious,” and “cerebral contusion.” She was grateful, of course, so grateful that she didn’t have to do more than assure her little sister that their mother would be back and offer her a coloring book. Grateful that she could sit here with her as she tried to untangle her thoughts on that mother.

It felt strange to be in her house, and wrong, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong. She wasn’t wanted there, knew that, had heard the equivalent words from Shelby herself, but at the same time she felt like she had to be, at least now. It was all so confusing, and she found herself smirking as she realized she’d almost rather trade for more Finn drama. Almost.

Rachel continued to watch Beth until she caught a whiff of – _eww_. “Uh, I think Beth needs to be changed.” She looked over at Mr. Schue and gave a half-smile as he suppressed a grimace.

“I think you’re right.” He hesitated a moment before asking, “Have you ever—“ She shook her head and inwardly groaned when he added, “Me neither.”

Rachel remembered hearing that when it came to changing diapers men were, well,  _babies_. But her dads had managed for her, so she figured it couldn’t be that terrible, considering all of the things they both became squeamish around (well, she didn’t blame their aversion to squid—squid was just disgusting).

She stood up and squatted down by Beth, biting her lip as she got closer to the smell. “Well, I’m sure it won’t be too difficult to figure out.” She hoisted the girl up, hesitating a moment before settling her on her hip. She walked into the nursery and rolled her eyes when she realized he wasn’t following her.

“Babies,” she murmured before setting Beth on the changing table. She looked underneath and found a stack of diapers, baby powder and baby wipes, grinning at the apparent simplicity of the task. When she set the items on the table Mr. Schuester appeared in the doorway, watching her.

“Can I, what can I do to help?” It was the most out-of-his-element she had ever seen him, so she pinched her lips together and shook her head.

“I can handle this, Mr. Schuester, but thank you for the offer.” He almost sighed in relief, so she started to unbutton Beth’s romper and pulled it down to the little girl’s stomach. Smiling wide at the girl she leaned her down, resting her back on the table as she slid the clothes off. Beth, now clad in only the diaper, started to push at her own cheeks and swing her legs, just a little.

Glancing up she noticed Mr. Schue had retreated, went back into the living room and she shook her head again, though she felt much better without having him watch her do something so new, something she had no idea if she was good at.

She unclasped the sides of the diaper and pinched her eyes shut at the smell, wrinkling her nose and lifting Beth’s legs so she could slide the diaper out. Once in hand, she realized she had no idea what to do with it, and paused like that for a moment. Looking around, she breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted the diaper genie to her right, and opened it, dropping the dirty diaper in.

Beth seemed to be all right, so she relaxed a little and reached for a wet wipe and cleaned her skin. As she worked she started to hum, getting the girl’s backside clean. She repeated her earlier motions, lifting her legs, and slid a clean diaper underneath her butt, before shaking the powder onto her clean skin and securing the diaper.

“There! All clean. Do you feel better, Beth?” She smiled up at Rachel and pressed her fingers against her own legs. Rachel reached for the pink romper, but Beth began to squirm and fight as she tried to put her leg back into it. “Beth…” she warned in a gentle voice, and continued on her mission, smiling as she finally got the outfit back on before she lifted her and set her on the ground.

Beth toddled around the nursery, going to a puzzle in the corner and picking it up. Rachel crossed her arms in front of her and followed the girl as she walked out of the room and back to her spot in front of the TV.

Rachel caught sight of her teacher on the couch, looking down at his phone. She passed him, going into the kitchen to wash her hands. Once she was done, she turned to find him looking at her over the couch cushions. “All changed?” She nodded, smiling, and felt a little bit powerful at the guilty way his lips pursed. “I called the hospital.” Her smile fell and she waited, leaning against the counter.

“Was there any news?” He shook his head and she felt her shoulders drop. She nodded at him and tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling very young. Rachel rounded the couch and sat back down in her spot, where she could watch Beth again. The toddler dumped the puzzle over, dropping the eight or so pieces in a pile before she started to try to fit them back in.

Curious George must have ended when she was changing Beth, she realized, as a show with puppet creatures started. She glanced at Beth, still completely busy with her puzzle, and picked up the remote from the coffee table. Beginning to push the channel buttons she paused, not knowing what Mr. Schuester wanted to watch. She already felt bad that he had to stay with her, so she smiled shyly as she handed him the remote.

He hesitated a moment before reaching for it, and she shrugged her shoulders. “She doesn’t seem to be paying much attention anymore, and I’d rather not watch whatever this is.” He started to flip the channels and she added, “Children’s shows were much better when I was growing up.”

He snorted and she blushed, realizing she’d just drawn attention to the age difference between them. She wasn’t exactly sure why it mattered, but she wanted to take it back badly—things had been so simple, so pleasant, so  _equal_. As he continued to bypass show after show she came to the realization that the give and take between them had been that pleasantness—that she hadn’t been constantly fighting for him to listen to her, to accept her opinion.

It made sense, of course—they weren’t in the choir room, they weren’t surrounded by her peers. It was just the two of them, both trying to take care of a child, which, to the best of her knowledge, he had never done, either. This was new, this common ground, and she wondered if there was any way she could hang on to it, prevent him from viewing her as just a student and not the insightful artist she knew she was (the artist she wanted him to one day discover).

Really, she thought, it didn’t seem to be the age difference, exactly, that kept him from listening to her ideas. He was well-versed in music, of course, but she’d also made absolutely sure that he knew  _she_ was, too. She watched as he hesitated on  _All About Eve_  before continuing on, and she furrowed her brows.

 _Maybe_ , she closed her eyes in thought,  _he’s worried that I’m right, that I’m better than he is_. The thought felt presumptuous, arrogant, but it also felt like something was clicking, finally. After all, he hadn’t made it, had he? Bryan Ryan had pointed it out and he’d moped the rest of the day.

“ _Singing in the Rain_  OK?” His question pulled her out of her thoughts and she turned to look at him, nodding her head. It wasn’t her favorite but it was undeniably fantastic, classic, and more than that it would be a great distraction from him, from Shelby, from thinking.

The title song was playing and despite her desire to shut off she thought about how many times she’d tried to suggest a song, revise a dance step and he’d completely lost his patience with her. Times she’d thought she was talking to someone who was on the same level she was, one of the only people on that level in glee.

She snuck a glance at him and he was smiling, dreamily staring toward the TV (or Beth, she couldn’t be certain). He looked so soft, so unassuming, and she wondered if maybe, maybe he was taking her initiating of discussion as a questioning of his skill. After all, Sue, Figgins, his ex-wife, everyone, it seemed, had been clamoring for termination of the club at one point or another. She wondered who, if anyone, was reminding him that he was doing a  _good job_ , was teaching them things.

Feeling a stab of guilt, she gulped, and almost shrieked when he looked at her. He was still smiling from the movie, but she knew her expression was cause for concern, so before he could say anything she whispered, “You’re a great director, Mr. Schue.”

She could have said more, could have explained that he’d taught them so much, brought Tina out of her shell, helped Finn become the leader he was today, even been there to encourage Quinn at the end of her pregnancy. She could have, if she’d really wanted to, told him that he’d even done a good job reminding her (not that it would prove accurate once she was starring eight times a week on Broadway) that she couldn’t  _always_  be the star.

But his eyes were wide, his expression a little dazed, and she thought his lip might have been twitching a little, so she kept her lips pressed tight together and thought that maybe no one else had said that outside of their group performances. Maybe he just needed to hear it more than twice a year. It was reasonable, of course.

The fallout from the unexpected proclamation hadn’t crossed her mind, but, fortunately, Beth stood up, drawing both of their attention back to the small child. She wobbled as she turned from the TV to the couch, lumbering as she made her way to the floor in front of Rachel. Once there, her hands shot out, grabbing at the skirt of Rachel’s dress and pulling, until Rachel helped her, setting her down on her lap.

She was so grateful that Beth had broken the awkward tension that had permeated the air after her remark, and she asked in a high voice, “Do you want to watch a musical, Beth? Do you like music?”

Beth slapped her hands, laughing. The toddler began to speak jarbled sentences, but Rachel caught the word “sing” multiple times. “Yes! Singing. Do you like to sing?” Both of them were smiling, but Beth was giggling alone until Rachel joined in.

They sat quietly after that, watching the musical on screen. Rachel was amazed at how intently Beth watched the TV screen, and Mr. Schue was, too. “There may not be a blood relation, but she is definitely Shelby’s daughter.”

It hurt to hear him say that. It _hurt_. He didn’t know, of course, how Shelby felt about the daughter she was related to by blood; he didn’t know how Rachel had asked to be her daughter, wanted to start a relationship. Mr. Schue didn’t know how Shelby told her she wanted a family, but in the same breath added that she’d missed her chance with Rachel, even when she was standing in front of Shelby, telling her she hadn’t. He didn’t know how much it  _hurt_ , so she ran a hand over Beth’s shoulder and murmured, “Definitely.”

All three occupants of the couch remained almost motionless, and when Rachel caught sight of her watch she realized how tiring the day had been. “It’s 7:45, so I’m going to put her to bed.” He remained where he was as she stood, taking Beth in her arms into the nursery. She was leaning her head Rachel’s shoulder and talking, but Rachel couldn’t make out any coherent words.

As she set her on the changing table she murmured, “That’s right,” in a soothing voice, hoping it would keep Beth calm. She’d been fine most of the day, but now that it was night time, and Rachel assumed she had a bedtime routine, she was a little concerned.

But Beth didn’t do anything as Rachel put her in her pajamas, a cute little yellow onesie with duckies. Beth just put her fingers in her mouth until she was in Rachel’s arms again. As Rachel moved away from the table, trying to figure out what Shelby’s routine was, Beth started to squirm, so Rachel put her down on the floor.

It took only a second before Beth was running to the bookshelf, pulling out one of the storybooks and then leaving the nursery. “Beth? Where are you going, sweetie?” she was calling after her but the toddler just exited the doorway, continuing down the hall to the far door, and gently pushing it open.

Rachel hesitated at the threshold to Shelby’s bedroom, feeling very much like she was invading her mother’s privacy, more so, even, than the rest of the day. So as Beth set her book on the comforter covering the bed and started to pull herself up, Rachel crossed into the room to help the little girl.

“Do you have storytime, Beth? Do you want me to read to you?” The toddler nodded and scooted to the middle of the bed, holding the book out to her with jumbled words.

Rachel slipped her shoes off, little black flats, and moved onto the bed, sitting next to Beth with her back against the headboard. Beth wasted no time in crawling up next to her, resting her head on her breast and putting one hand on Rachel’s stomach.

The toddler had been in her arms countless times that day, but this, her curled into her side like Rachel was a safety blanket, felt different. It felt good, and unexpected, that Beth would  _choose_  to cuddle into her. It felt like she was this little girl’s  _family_.

Her eyes were blurry so she patted Beth’s back and blinked her eyes, reaching for the book on her lap. “Rapunzel!” she play-gasped, smiling when the toddler giggled. Rachel began to read the story, her right arm around Beth as she turned the pages.

Rachel allowed herself to become absorbed into the role of storyteller, feeling so relaxed after being out of her element all day. But this, this was something she knew how to do. Changing voices and being theatrical, she smiled every time Beth gasped or giggled, and felt a surge of pride when the toddler would press further into her.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” Beth giggled at Rachel’s attempt to speak in a low voice. When Rachel stopped reading to do the same, she caught a glimpse of Mr. Schue out of the corner of her eye. He was leaning against the doorway, watching the two of them. She felt awkward, under his scrutiny, but remembered how he’d really been watching Beth earlier, and relaxed, continuing to read.

She closed the book with, “And they lived happily ever after,” before looking down at Beth. She was looking back at her, and for a moment they just stared at each other. But then Beth started to speak, and Rachel thought she heard, “sing” in the mix.

“You want to sing?” Beth slapped her hand against Rachel’s stomach, and she realized  _of course_  that would be Shelby’s routine. “You want me to sing to you?” There was a pause, and Beth shook her head. Oh.

“Momma sing,” came from the bundle at her side.  _Oh_.

“Sweetie, she’s still not here.” With that Beth started to cry, clenched her fingers into a fist at the same time she huddled closer to Rachel. She put an arm under Beth’s back and pulled her onto her lap, smiling sadly when her fingers curled around the neckline to her dress. “Shh, Beth, it’s OK, your momma will be back soon,” and she glanced quickly to the doorway to find Mr. Schue still there.

She gulped, upset that he was seeing her fail so terribly, and stroked Beth’s hair, now out of the pigtails, as Rachel closed her eyes. “ _Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to problems that upset you,_ ” she started to sing, hoping that any type of music would soothe the little girl.

“ _Don’t you_   _know everything’s alright, yes, everything’s fine and we want you to sleep well tonight._ ” The lyrics called for “we” but Rachel felt suddenly warm as she realized it was true, there were two people watching after Beth. The “we” was both Mr. Schue and she, and she glanced at the former in the doorway.

He looked concerned for the little girl but hadn’t moved, so she continued to stroke Beth’s back and sing, hoping to stop the small sobs coming from her. “ _Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you and anoint you, myrrh for your hot forehead, then you’ll feel everything’s all right,”_  she smiled, realizing Beth was calming under her voice and hand.

“ _Yes, everything’s fine, and it’s cool and the ointment’s sweet, for the fire in your head and feet.”_  The cries were finished, now, and she felt Beth’s fist unfurl from around her dress. “ _Close your eyes, close your eyes and relax, think of nothing tonight_.”

There were no other noises once Rachel stopped singing, so she paused for a moment, waiting for another cry. It never came and she breathed a sigh of relief, letting her head drop back against the wooden headboard.

She realized that, now that Beth was asleep, she had no idea how to move her without waking her. Hesitating, she looked over to Mr. Schue. He smiled, almost sweetly, and stepped forward, finally, into the room. “Do you need me to pick her up?” And she was so grateful she didn’t have to ask him.

Her relief was visual, she knew, as her shoulders dropped and her eyes softened. “Yes, please,” and he came to stand by the edge of the bed. He only paused a moment before he leaned over, and she watched his face.

She wasn’t sure how he wanted to pick Beth up so she just stayed where she was, moving her arms away from the little girl laying on her. Rachel realized he was trying to figure out how to pick her up without touching Rachel, and she felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks in both embarrassment and anticipation.

Finally his left hand rested on Beth’s back as his right one slid under the little girl, pressing against Rachel’s stomach. She barely contained the gasp she made as he touched her, and she sucked in her stomach, minimizing their contact at the same time she wanted to exhale and press into it.

He cleared his throat once he had a firm grasp on Beth and pulled back, cradling her to his chest. He paused there, a moment, holding the girl in his arms for the first time. Finally he turned, heading down the hallway to the nursery, and once he was out of her eyesight, she opened her mouth and let out a shuddering sigh.

It was all too much, his touch, the expression as he watched the child they were caring for, and she felt a sudden head rush. She took a moment to catch her breath before she slid from the bed, her bare feet brushing the soft carpet.

Rachel left her shoes where they were and headed into the nursery, but paused at the door. It was her turn to watch them, she mused, as Mr. Schue lowered Beth into the crib. His movements were almost graceful, as he set the toddler down and leaned over the edge of the crib, watching her. There was a gentle smile on his face but the muscles of his back were tense, and they moved under his dress shirt as he tucked her in.

Rachel shifted, feeling like an intruder, and continued down the hallway, giving him the moment. After all, she thought, now in the kitchen, Beth had almost been  _his_. She suddenly felt an enormous amount of sympathy for her teacher, and wondered if it still hurt him as much as it seemed to.

As she rounded the counter she caught a whiff of something good, and realized their food remained, uneaten, on the cold stove top. Her stomach rumbled, loudly, and she dipped her finger into the sauce in the pan, covering their stir-fry.

Bringing it to her lips she tasted it, closing her eyes at the sweetness tinged with spice. It was unexpected, the combination, as well as the fact that, yes, he had been right. She’d questioned him on this, too, and she thought back to her realization on the couch with guilt.

“So, was I lying to you?” He was on the other side of the counter, must have finished with Beth, and she caught sight of the baby monitor on the counter beside her. He made sure it was on with a playful grin, and she realized he must have been talking about the food.

Rolling her eyes, she brought her finger away from her mouth and pursed her lips. “I guess it isn’t terrible. In fact, it’s quite impressive for someone with such an affinity for 90s rap.”

He laughed and murmured, “Layers, Rachel,” before brushing past her and reaching into the cupboards for plates. “Hungry?” She nodded her head fervently, and took one of them from him. She spooned the cold rice from the pot onto the plate, covering it with a mixture of cooked veggies and sauce, before handing the plate back to him to microwave.

They repeated the process in silence with the other plate, and as they waited for the second serving to finish heating, he spoke quietly, “I didn’t know you were good with kids.”

She thought it was funny, because why would he know that when they only saw each other during glee. But she also thought it was sweet, very sweet, that he thought she did a good job with Beth so she smiled back at him. “I didn’t either, actually. I’ve always wanted a little brother or a sister, but the only  kids I’ve ever been around have been my cousin Leon’s, and it was only for Thanksgiving or a day on summer vacation.”

He looked down at his shoes and offered back, “Well, you’re a natural.” She wanted to return the compliment, but hesitated, and before she could he asked, “How are you doing?”

The microwave beeped and he took the other plate out of the microwave, bringing them both to the far counter, where two barstools sat on the other side. Rachel grabbed two forks and two glasses, following him, before setting them down and turning to go back to the refrigerator. “What do you mean?” She asked as she pulled out the pitcher of water on the top shelf.

She poured them both a glass and he thanked her, before sitting down on one of the stools and looking at her. “About Shelby. She’s your mom, and I haven’t really asked how you’re doing with all of this.” She took the seat next to him and shrugged her shoulders, taking a sip of water.

“She’s not.” Rachel took a bite of the food, so hungry, but also nervous about where their conversation was going.

“What—“

“She told me she’s not my mom.” He looked confused, so she added, “She’s my mother, yes. But she told me she’s not my mom.” And it felt good to say it, to tell someone else a little bit of their messed up relationship, but it also felt like too much, like she was telling him everything, so she took another bite and when she was finished she asked, “Does it feel weird? Seeing Beth?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he ate, and took a drink. “Why would it?” It seemed like he knew what she meant, but she realized this conversation might be the same for him as the previous had been for her.

“She’s your almost-daughter. Does it hurt?” She realized she was crossing the line, but they were talking, like he’d never let them before, and she wanted to know so much.

“It…” he sighed and ate some more before finishing, “Yes. It does.”

She set her fork down and faced him as best as she could. “I’m sorry, Mr. Schue.” He looked at her and nodded.

“Me too, Rachel.” His response was for her and himself, she knew, so they both continued to eat in silence, finishing quickly after having not eaten all day. Once they were done, Rachel stood, taking her plate to the sink and setting it on the side, before returning to the counter to take Mr. Schue’s, too. He shifted awkwardly, and said, “Thanks, Rach. I’m gonna call the hotel and check in with Finn.”

He walked down into the hallway as she washed their plates and set them on a drying rack to the side, and did the same for the pot and pan from the stove. As she was setting those next to the plates, Mr. Schue came back into the kitchen.

“Everything’s still fine, and Finn sounded coherent, so at least nothing too wild is happening.” He smiled when she leaned against the counter watching him, and added, “I think Quinn’s making them feel too guilty to ruin anything.” Rachel gave a gentle smile and nodded.

“I also called the hospital.”

“No change?” He shook his head sadly, then glanced into the living room.

“Did you see any extra blankets? I’ll take the couch.”

Rachel nodded, but before she could start to argue he cut her off. Pushing herself away from the counter she went back into Shelby’s room and grabbed two blankets and a few pillows from the bed, and went back to set them on the couch.

Feeling awkward standing in the living room, Rachel shifted feet and said, “I think I’ll head to bed, now, too.” She took the baby monitor off of the counter and headed into Shelby’s room. She rearranged the pillows, now that the headboard was less crowded, and picked up her shoes, setting them at the end of the bed. With an audible sigh, Rachel opened one of the drawers of Shelby’s dresser. She felt a twinge of guilt for snooping but couldn’t help it, not with the opportunity she’d been given. Besides, she really wanted to have something else to sleep in besides her dress.

The top few drawers yielded nothing for sleepwear or anything interesting, but in the third drawer she found dozens of silk nightgowns. Rachel preferred something that covered a little more in sleep, but as she ran her hand over the material she couldn’t help but admit there was something very alluring about the gowns—they were so soft, and pretty, and she couldn’t help but think how much sexier they were than her flannel sets.

Biting her lip she hesitated, before picking a green one up and closing the drawer, dropping the nightgown on the end of the bed. She hadn’t been able to find anything else, so really, it was her only option.

With that, she left the room and stepped towards the bathroom, just as Mr. Schue was stepping out. “There’s an extra toothbrush on the counter for you,” and he brushed past her, back into the living room. She blushed as she muttered a thank you after him, and entered the gorgeous bathroom.

Across from the entrance there was a large tub and shower combination, and to her right was a very large counter with a gorgeous porcelain sink. Rachel shut the door and found the brush there, just like he’d said. It was in a plastic wrapper, and she felt a small smile as she realized how much dental hygiene meant to her mother, too.

She unwrapped it quickly and found toothpaste next to the faucet, and she began to brush her teeth. Feeling much cleaner, Rachel used the bathroom and washed her hands, realizing, as she stepped into these mindless steps, how exhausted she was despite the early hour.

She walked back into the bedroom and closed the door, slipping into the nightgown quickly and laying her dress over the footboard, before heading back to turn the lights off and open the door again, so she could get to Beth quickly if she’d need her.

With that thought, Rachel quickly found a robe before she turned the lights off and set it on the footboard on top of her dress. After, she dragged herself back to the bed and slid in, trying not to reflect too much on the day, especially not the strange situation this put her in with her teacher.

Mr. Schue always confused her, how he could be so nice to her sometimes and seem like he couldn’t care less about her other times. But, she reminded herself, it didn’t matter—they were both here to take care of Beth, and she could only do that if she got some sleep.

As she drifted off, however, she couldn’t help but be reminded of the way his fingers had brushed her stomach earlier, and the thrill it had sent up her spine.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel woke with a start, her breath catching as she shot up, her hand flying to her chest. The bedroom was almost pitch-black, which didn’t help her orient herself as she realized she was not in her own four-poster bed. The sound of a baby’s cries from the monitor on the nightstand brought her back, and she remembered that she was in Shelby’s house and Beth was down the hall calling for her.

She ran a hand over her face and slid her legs out from under the covers onto the floor, before walking out of the room. Rounding the doorway to the nursery Rachel saw Beth standing in her crib, her tiny hands resting on the slats of the side. Her fingers were gripping as she bounced slightly, her face red as she sobbed.

Rachel could see that her nose was running and her mouth was open, showing small, flat teeth. She murmured, “Oh, Beth,” and flew to the little girl, scooping her up and holding her on her hip. As Beth cried, Rachel reached for a tissue from the box on the dresser. She dabbed at Beth’s cheeks and nose as she’d done earlier that day before asking, “Do you need to be changed?” Rachel checked quickly only to find her dry before buttoning the sleeper back up and cradling Beth more tightly to her chest.

“Is she OK?” Rachel turned at Mr. Schue’s low, gravelly voice. He was in the doorway, and she had to bite her lip to suppress a smirk. His hair was rumpled, loose locks curling over his ears and against his forehead, and he was wearing a white v-neck undershirt with blue striped boxers. He wore no socks, and it was strange how it felt oddly intimate that she could see his feet.

His question permeated the haze of sleep still clinging to her mind and she nodded. The cool air of the apartment hit her legs and she remembered what she’d put on for bed just a few hours ago. The silk nightgown felt very, very thin, and she blushed. She could feel thick locks of her hair curling around themselves against her shoulders and back, and she dug her toes into the carpet imagining the tangled mess it presented.

Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “She’s fine, you can go back to bed.” But he just ignored the last part and stepped closer, running a hand over the toddler’s thin hair. His hand stopped, suddenly, an inch from where hers rested on Beth’s upper back.

“Does she need to be changed?”

“No, I just checked.” He started stroking Beth’s hair again, and she realized how close he was to her. He was angled toward the little girl, but she could feel the warmth of his chest just inches from her arm and back. She thought, for a moment, she even got a whiff of a clean, woody scent that was recognizably his.

She attributed the uninhibited thoughts to the sleepy corners of her consciousness, and started to tell him, again, that he could go back to bed. She’d told him she could take care of Beth and she had meant it. “I’m perfectly capable of—“

Cutting her off he murmured, “I can take care of her if you want to go to sleep.” His quick dismissal of whatever she was going to say irked her, but more than that she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Beth—not as the little girl was clinging so tightly to her, leaving her shoulder slick with tears.

He was watching Beth intently, and she narrowed her eyes, realizing that he was worried about her, too. Neither could bear to leave her, so Rachel just kept her mouth shut as she bounced Beth on her hip and murmured soothing words.

When Rachel looked up from Beth, she realized Mr. Schue was still watching them, and she flushed again as she pictured the mess she must look. She breathed a sigh of relief, then, when he brushed past her, going to the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

Rachel watched as he picked up a small, stuffed bunny and walked over to them. He was standing so close to her, again, and when he started to speak in that rumbling voice she couldn’t help but close her eyes. “Beth? Do you want your bunny?” It was strange, that these words shot a shiver up her spine, but she just ignored it and swayed Beth a little bit more.

Feeling the toddler’s head move off of her shoulder, Rachel realized Beth’s crying had calmed down just a little as she looked at Mr. Schue and her toy. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Beth reach a small hand over her shoulder, to take the bunny and press the thin brown fabric against Rachel’s collarbone before curling back into the brunette, her fingers pressing at the gold star on her neck.

“Maybe she’s thirsty? Let’s go into the kitchen, I’ll get her some juice.” Rachel followed him down the hall, stroking Beth’s back as she watched him move around the kitchen. He filled the sippy cup, but when he tried to screw the lid on it slipped to the ground. He bent to pick it up and she felt her cheeks grow warm as she let her gaze drop to his ass.

He righted himself and turned around, smiling sleepily back at Rachel as he came to stand by her side, again angled toward her. “Here,” he said, and set the sippy cup on the counter before holding out his hands. She hesitated, not ready to let go of the crying toddler in her arms. But as she looked up at him she realized he wanted to help soothe Beth, but he also wanted to hold her to soothe himself.

A stab of guilty pain hit her as she thought about how this was almost  _his_  daughter, and yet Rachel had spent more time with her. With a hesitant smile, Rachel nodded, and squeezed Beth to herself before lifting her away from her chest and holding her out to Mr. Schue.

Beth seemed unfazed by the change, just curled into his shoulder, still gripping the faded stuffed rabbit. He smiled a little and stroked Beth’s back, but Rachel only felt a sudden jolt of hurt. Letting go of the little girl had been hard, and she realized that maybe Beth had not become attached to Rachel the way Rachel had become suddenly attached to Beth.

 When she smiled back at her teacher it was twisted, confused as she was with her feeling of connection to the toddler. Mr. Schue handed Beth the sippy cup and she drank from it greedily as they both watched.

After a moment he cleared his throat softly and she caught him shifting from foot to foot as he avoided her eyes. Her brow crinkled in confusion and she followed his movements into the living room area, rounding the couch to stand by one end. Her movements caused a slight breeze to hit her and she felt goosebumps break on her skin and her nipples harden beneath the cool material of the silk.  _Oh_ , she realized with a blush and sat down on the couch quickly, ducking her head.

He took the space on the other end of the couch and sat, holding Beth, but didn’t tell her to go back to bed again. She was grateful for his silence—without Beth in her arms she felt like she had no claim to be out here, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her with someone else, no matter how much she trusted that person. All she could think of was the way Beth’s tiny hands had pressed against her neck, how she’d clung on like Rachel could make it all better.

Beth’s eyes were watering, but the juice was soothing her, enough for her sobs to come second to the cup. Mr. Schue shifted to lean back against the corner of the couch and she winced, watching Beth get jostled. She wanted to take her back immediately, make sure she was comfortable, but Beth just shifted closer to him and kept drinking.

When Beth was finished with the juice she let the cup drop to Mr. Schue’s lap and pressed her forehead against his neck. The jealousy Rachel felt at the sight was unpleasant and unwelcome, as well as confusing. She figured it was connected to the urge she had to keep holding Beth, how it had felt  _so good_  when Beth had hugged her like that, like she was safe as long as she was in Rachel’s arms.

But when she watched Mr. Schue watching Beth, she felt another, unnamed emotion clutch her chest tightly. It caused her breath to catch and her eyes to water. Because Mr. Schue looked  _happy_. He looked happier as he watched that little girl than she’d ever seen him before.

The jealousy she’d felt was abating, was smoothing out and in its place came a subtle sense of longing. The look he had was gentle and unassuming—he was content. Content to just sit there and watch Beth, and she wanted that kind of happiness, too. She felt bad, wanting what she knew he rarely, if ever, had.

Rachel tried to look away, but her eyes still felt heavy and the smile twitching at his lips was hypnotizing. It made her think of her future, for some reason. It made her think of NYU, and of being off-Broadway, on Broadway, at the Tony’s. It made her think of all the things she thought she wanted, but with him in front of her it felt naïve, and hollow, like a caricature in a crystal ball.

She realized that while babies had always been a part of her plan—she’d told Finn as much all those months ago—she’d never really factored in  _family_. Whenever she thought of being a mother she pictured herself at magazine cover shoots, being interviewed about the struggles of having it all. She’d never considered the part where she woke up to hold her son or daughter, never thought about how she’d never want to let them go.

Beth let out a particularly loud sob and Rachel snapped her attention back to the small girl, her eyes having drifted off to stare at nothing as she reflected. Mr. Schue hugged Beth tighter to his chest and murmured, and Rachel smiled at him softly. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been staring at them until he asked, “Rachel? Are you OK?”

“You just look so happy.” It was blurted out before she could stop to think, and she blamed the last small film of sleepy haze that clung to her senses. Her eyes dropped down in embarrassment, and she wrapped her arms tight around her knees.

There was silence for a moment, and when she hazarded a glance back up at him she saw him watching Beth. “I—I guess, I am.” Beth’s cries were getting softer, and with a stroke of her hair he looked up at Rachel. His tone lost a bit of the wonderment it had held when he spoke again. “Because of her,” and Rachel heard the unspoken  _of course_  that followed.

Her chest tightened at those unspoken words and she nodded her head. She’d known he meant Beth, it had been implied in her statement, even, that he was happy because of the sweet toddler in his arms. But for some reason his clarification felt pointed, barbed in her direction, as if to say that it  _wasn’t_  because of her more than it  _was_  because of Beth.

Looking up at him through her lashes she saw the guilty bob of his Adam’s apple and she knew she’d been right. Beth was calming, though, so she focused back on the little girl and caught the kiss Mr. Schuester pressed to the top of her head.

The three sat in silence until the youngest fell asleep. Once the other two were certain Beth was down, Rachel stood. Still stinging slightly from his words, she immediately crossed her arms over her chest as she stood, covering herself.

When Mr. Schuester started to get up, struggling not to jostle Beth and wake her, she stepped toward him and offered her hand. She bit the inside of her cheek to force herself not to take it back, not to be intimidated, and he finally cleared his throat and gripped her hand.

He was heavy, she realized, but she tugged on his hand with all of her strength as he tugged back. In a moment he was standing right in front of her, and both held their breath as they looked to Beth, only to find her still asleep, her cheeks puffed out. Mr. Schue smiled at Rachel and she smiled back, his words pushed to the back of her mind as she processed the beautiful little girl before her.

Her hand started to overheat and she looked down, realizing her hand was still in his. Biting her lip, she was shocked to find how small her fingers looked against his palm. Without thinking, she began to stroke the back of his hand with her forefinger, sucking in a breath at the unexpected feel of his skin beneath hers.

He gasped, finally, and dropped her hand, her fingers curling into her palm at the sudden chill that met her flesh without his. He mumbled something about Beth and walked away from her, into the nursery. Rachel stood there a moment longer, staring down at her hand before she crossed her arms across her chest again.

As she walked into the hallway she felt new goosebumps at the feeling of the cool material brushing against her suddenly heated flesh. Mr. Schue stepped out of the nursery at the same time she was walking past it, and his hand flew to her hip out of surprise. She could barely process the action before he murmured, “Good night, Rachel,” and brushed past her without allowing them to come into contact again.

She nodded to his back and moved into Shelby’s room, crawling under the covers. She drifted off to sleep again as she attempted to untangle the sudden knot the last few minutes had put in her thoughts.

()()() 

When Rachel woke up again the house was silent and sunlight illuminated the soft white lace curtains on the wall. She laid there a moment, just waiting, listening for a cry from Beth or the sound of Mr. Schuester’s footsteps. When neither sound came she glanced at the alarm clock to her side and was surprised to find that it was a little after eight in the morning. Rachel ran a hand over her face, letting out a shuddering breath as she realized she’d slept two hours past her normal schedule.

Sliding out of the bed slowly, the rush of the previous wake-up gone now, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of urgency she felt. She reached for the end of the bed, picking up the silk robe and sliding it on before heading down to hall to check on Beth.

There were no noises coming from the crib so Rachel tiptoed over, trying not to wake the toddler if she was still asleep. When she glanced over the side of the crib, she saw Beth’s eyes opening slowly, and she took the moment to just watch the little girl. Her eyelashes were long, despite her age, and Rachel felt the corners of her mouth twitching as she realized how similar her eyes were to her parents. Quinn had told everyone how blue Beth’s eyes had been at birth, but they were a gorgeous green now, like Quinn’s own.

Beth was fully awake, and reaching up for Rachel. She felt the surge of pride that she’d missed last night when Beth had been fine leaving her arms. But she was back in them now, and Rachel hugged her, before realizing she needed to be changed again.

As she unsnapped the sleeper and changed her diaper, Rachel murmured softly, unnecessary words that she somehow felt compelled to say. She giggled softly with Beth as the little girl displayed far more mirth than she had in the middle of the night. As she stuck the sides of the clean diaper together, she jumped a little when she heard Mr. Schue in the doorway again, as she had in the middle of the night.

He was wearing his jeans this time, but his feet were still bare and she flushed, remembering how she’d been talking to Beth in such an embarrassing baby voice. She swore not to do that again before he spoke. “Thanks for changing her. If you want to take the first shower I can feed her.”

The comment was unexpectedly heavy, so she just nodded her head, thanking him and passing Beth to his open arms. She continued into Shelby’s room, grabbing her dress and purse before ducking into the bathroom and starting the shower.

As the water warmed up, she thought about why Mr. Schuester’s comment had seemed so strange. He’d thanked her, for starters, and she wondered why—she viewed the situation as her responsibility. She’d been the one to accept responsibility for Beth, the one who decided to take care of her, here. But Mr. Schue had thanked her like it was his responsibility, too. And when he’d offered to feed Beth, she couldn’t help but be grateful—she’d been unable to feed the toddler and she was embarrassed. But he had been able to, and she’d been the one to change Beth. In a way, Rachel thought that they made a good pair, trading off on the things the other couldn’t do.

She mused on the thought a moment longer until she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. The robe was longer than the nightgown, but not by much, and her hair was curling around itself as she’d feared. Rachel thought about how he’d been the one to suggest she shower, and she blushed, realizing what a mess she must have looked like to him.

When steam wafted in between her and the mirror she undid the sash on the robe and took it off, hanging it on the hook on the back of the door. There was a stack of towels on the shelves by the sink, and Rachel pulled one down to put by the tub, before slipping off the nightgown and her panties. Leaving them in a pool on the floor she stepped into the bathtub, beneath the hot spray of the water.

She felt a bittersweet smile when she caught sight of the shampoo and conditioner bottles in the corner of the tub, the same exact kind she used.  _Like mother like daughter_  rang through her head as she washed her hair, letting the conditioner sit in for a moment before rinsing it out. She saw a bottle of shower gel to the right of the other bottles and brought it to her nose to smell.

The bottle was full of a crème lather, and as she inhaled Rachel smiled at the smell. It was rich and sweet, and it smelled expensive. As she poured a small drop into her hand she washed herself, realizing that the scent was full and warm and reminded her of her first grade teacher, Ms. Olsen. Rachel thought about how it had felt to be hugged by the gentle woman one day when she had lost her new headband, how she’d held Rachel to her and stroked her hair, murmuring that it would all be OK. She remembered how she’d gotten off the bus that day, feeling bad when she told her dads what had happened, feeling worse when they hugged her and it didn’t feel quite the same.

Rachel wrung out her hair, stepping out of the shower and drying off quickly, knowing Beth would be done eating and Mr. Schue would want a shower before they went to the hospital. She found a comb in the top drawer of the counter and brushed her hair quickly, before slipping her dress on and picking up the nightgown and panties. She shifted uncomfortably, deciding she couldn’t put them on again and stuffed them to the bottom of her purse, putting her wallet on top of the pink lace.

After she fluffed her hair, rolling her eyes as she felt it start to wave slightly, she picked up her purse, the nightgown and robe, and left the bathroom, stopping at Shelby’s bed to deposit the clothes and her purse. Rachel started to head down the hall to the living room, but stopped in the bathroom to hang up her towel on the back of the door.

When she was finished she walked into the kitchen, where Beth was drinking out of her cup, an empty bowl in front of her. Mr. Schue closed the refrigerator and turned around, smiling at Rachel. “It’s all yours.”

He nodded, and held up his cell phone. “I just called Finn. Everything’s fine over there, though judging by Finn’s voice and the snoring in the background I don’t think they went to bed especially early.” Rachel couldn’t help but smile guiltily as she realized how much trouble they were risking getting Mr. Schue and the school in if they were drinking last night. She furrowed her brow, knowing if anything happened it would be because of  _her_ , and  _her_ mother, and  _her_ choice to stay at Shelby’s house.

Mr. Schue was smiling, though, and he didn’t look upset, more amused. So she gave him a tentative smile back and decided to text Kurt and Mercedes later to make sure nothing bad happened. “Good,” she said, in the silence that fell, before adding, “Thank you for feeding her,” and it felt weird to say as it had felt weird to hear from him, this acknowledgment of shared responsibility.

She’d rarely shared an important duty with someone else, and never with the man before her, but she had to admit it felt…safe, to an extent. Like she had a safety net, and if she couldn’t do something (like feed Beth) there was someone that would help her out. Her dads had always been there for her, but she’d also always been independent, told them she wanted to do things on her own. As Mr. Schue wiped off Beth’s chin and cheeks, she thought that maybe she was wrong, that maybe it felt good to depend on someone she could trust. Maybe it felt  _really_  good.

Mr. Schue was telling her he was going to take a shower, and she snapped back to him as he grabbed his dress shirt and walked down the hall, closing the door to the bathroom. Rachel looked at Beth, sitting in her high chair, fed and clean, and she walked the few steps to her, before picking her up and holding her to her chest.

Rachel hadn’t dressed her yet, not after she’d seen how messy Beth had been last night, so Rachel walked into the nursery, her ears picking up the noise of the shower turning back on across the hallway. “What do you want to wear today, Beth?” The toddler said nothing, but Rachel was expecting as much, so she just set Beth in her crib so she could pick out an outfit.

When she opened the top drawer of the dresser she was assaulted by pinks and purples and yellows and greens. The little girl had so many clothes, and Rachel smirked, realizing she finally had the Barbie doll sister she’d wanted. “Oh, Beth, you’re going to look so cute. Kurt’s not the only one who can pick out what’s fashionable, despite what he likes to think.”

Beth just giggled, so she picked through the second drawer and kept talking. “You’re lucky, you know. You have good fashion in your genes and in your home. Shelby knows what she’s doing,” she murmured the last as she picked up a yellow skirt and a light blue shirt with a smiling sun. Rachel walked over to the girl with her clothing, and started to dress Beth in the outfit she’d chosen.

Once dressed, Rachel picked her up and held her, watching as the tiny hands returned to her neck to play with the star necklace again. “You really love this, don’t you, Beth?”  Rachel looked around a moment before sitting down in the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

Beth was on her lap and she looked down at her, though Beth’s attention didn’t stray from the gold chain. “Gold stars are your mom’s thing, too, you know.” Rachel gulped, stroking the toddler’s back and watching her wistfully. “I bet it won’t be long before you get one of these yourself.

“You know, your mom—your mother, she loves you very much. She wanted to see you yesterday morning. I know she did.” Rachel felt a little silly, talking to a 15-month-old. Even if Beth could understand her, she couldn’t  _understand_ her. She had no idea Shelby wasn’t her mother, and there was no need to tell her these things about Quinn.

Except, as Beth gripped the pointed metal at her neck, she realized that one day Beth would think about Quinn, like Rachel thought about Shelby, and wonder why Quinn didn’t want her. How Quinn could give her away like it didn’t matter that Beth was hers. And, Rachel knew, it wouldn’t matter how  _much_  Shelby loved her (and she  _would_  love her, so much), that it would still hurt Beth to think about Quinn.

So Rachel smiled, feeling a few tears sting at her eyes, as she decided that even if Beth couldn’t understand, she could be told, and maybe that would count for something. “Quinn’s just scared, really. It hasn’t been easy for her, and, while she may deserve some of it for the way she treats others…” Rachel paused and sighed, “She’s just hurting. Beth, but she loves you, and it was so  _hard_  for her to give you to another woman, a woman who would love you like Quinn wanted to.”

Rachel gulped, realizing as she spoke how much she actually understood of the situation. With a moment’s hesitation, Rachel bit her lip and added, “And Shelby, she does love you. She loves you like I know she wanted to love me. And this is where you really win, Beth, because you get both of them. You have so many people who love you, just for being you.”

Beth’s grip on the necklace slackened, and the metal dropped against Rachel’s neck before Beth leaned her head against Rachel’s shoulder, cuddling her.

The tears were stinging, again, and Rachel blinked them away with a hollow laugh as she stroked Beth’s back some more. “I’m glad she has you, Beth. I am. I’m…disappointed I didn’t turn out to be what she wanted, that I couldn’t be the daughter she thought she’d had.”

A tear finally broke loose, trailing down her cheek. She shut her eyes tight, pressing Beth closer to her and willing herself to stop, to just  _let it go_. But the hurt Shelby’s words had caused had been building since Lima, more since yesterday in the hotel, and Rachel had never said them out loud. She’d never been able to tell anyone, anyone but the little girl she was holding, the little girl she hadn’t been able to be for her mom. It was hard, and the pressure in her chest hurt, but Rachel wiped the only tear off of her cheek and opened her eyes.

Mr. Schue was there, again, in the doorway, and she felt sheer panic flood her veins as she asked, “How long have you been standing there?”

He gulped and stepped into the room a bit, but shook his head. “Just a second. Are you ready to go?” His voice was wavering and she was  _certain_  he’d heard something, seen something, but he was willing to forget it, so she was, too.

“I am,” and she stood up, ignoring the hand he hesitantly offered her. Beth was quiet at her side as she walked to the doorway, brushing past Mr. Schue to get her purse from Shelby’s room and slip on her shoes. She headed to the door to meet Mr. Schuester, but as she caught sight of the kitchen she stopped, turning to grab a diaper bag from Beth’s room. Rachel checked that it had diapers in there, and also found a few baggies of snack foods and an empty sippy cup. Briefly, Rachel wondered where Beth was going to be going yesterday, but shook her head and flung the bag over her shoulder, and walked back into the main area of the house. “I’m ready,” she said, and smiled at him, hoping her eyes didn’t show the tears she hadn’t shed.

He smiled back and opened the door, ushering her out before using Shelby’s key to lock it again. When he was finished he brought his hand to her lower back and led her forward, toward the door outside. It felt good, having his hand on her back again, and she slowed down just a little so that he had to press harder against her dress. Suddenly she remembered the pink panties stuffed in her purse and shivered, an unexpected thrill running up her spine.

They stepped outside and she realized it was cooler than it was the day before. She looked up and saw that the sky was cloudy, so she leaned Beth back a little from her side and poked her chest, where the cartoon sun was. “I guess I chose the wrong shirt for you, didn’t I?” She giggled in response to the gentle poke and Mr. Schue put his hand on the back of his neck as he laughed.

“Let’s go,” and he put his hand back on her dress, leading her to the sidewalk to hail a cab. They waited in silence until they succeeded in waving one down, and Mr. Schue opened the door for her, and held out his hands to take Beth. This time she let him, and crawled in before he leaned down and handed the toddler back to her.

The constant moving was confusing Beth and she looked up at Rachel, holding onto her neck. That feeling of connection was back, stronger after she’d spilled all of her secrets to her little sister, and she nuzzled the girl’s hair.

Mr. Schue directed the cab back to the hospital, and the three rode the short distance to the building, before getting out and heading up to Shelby’s room. Rachel stepped out of the elevator first, and when she got to the door to room 306, she hesitated. She could feel the heat from Mr. Schue’s chest inches from her back, and she wondered, briefly, what the three of them looked like to the nurses and patients and doctors running around the hospital.

“Rach?” She looked over her shoulder at him and gave a determined smile, before walking into the hospital room. Shelby still remained unconscious, she noticed immediately, and was still bothered by the tubes and machines beeping, though this time she was prepared. She stepped closer to her mother’s bed and noticed she looked a little better, seemed to have a little bit more color in her cheeks.

Rachel remembered the transfusion and felt her chest relax, just a little, that one thing was better, at least. “Why don’t you two sit here, and I’ll go check with a nurse.” He waited for her to sit before he left the room, and she wondered if all this time together was starting to bother him, yet.

As they waited, Beth struggled in her arms as she looked at Shelby. “No, Beth, she’s still asleep, remember?” Her breath was catching, and Beth was gripping her neck more tightly, so Rachel stood, pulling the chair to Shelby’s bedside, and reaching for her hand.

She hesitated a moment, nervous to hold her mother’s hand when the concept was so foreign to them. But Beth was scooting off of her lap, leaning over to the bed, and so she set her warm hand on Shelby’s and squeezed. Beth was watching her mother, and Rachel was squeezing, squeezing her hand harder than she’d thought she could. She felt bad and tried to ease up, but she also wanted to squeeze just a bit more, squeeze until Shelby woke up.

When nothing came of a final grip, Rachel eased off, wrapping her hand around Beth’s waist and making sure she was secure against her stomach. She was, but she was watching her mother. Rachel shifted, and noticed a glint of light at Shelby’s neck. She, too, was wearing a gold star necklace. It was different, by just a little, but Rachel suddenly realized why her sister had such a fascination with the charm.

It dawned on her, then, that Beth was clinging to her so much because she was close to Shelby—the dark hair, the long nose, the big smile, the necklace. She undoubtedly even smelled like their mother, just a little, after using the same soap. The realization felt strange, and Rachel couldn’t help but feel like an idiot for not noticing. And, while it hurt that she was being used as more or less an extension of Shelby, she realized that there wasn’t anything Beth needed more then, really.

Mr. Schue came back in and paused at the foot of the bed, looking at Shelby. “The doctors say she’s doing well, but she hasn’t come around, yet. They think how quickly she’s healing is a good sign, but she needs another day or so to recuperate.”

She nodded, and he just took the seat against the wall behind her. They sat like that for a while, until Beth started to get anxious, and move around. Finally she slid from Rachel’s lap and started to toddle out of the room.

Mr. Schue stopped her, scooped her up into his arms. “Where do you think you’re going, missy?” He was smiling, but his hair, un-styled from his shower, was curling more than usual, and reminded her of the previous night. He looked at her and she wanted to suggest they head back, that Beth would be hungry soon.

Thoughts of preparing another meal, of leaving the hospital made her shift, uneasy. She had no idea what Mr. Schue wanted to do, was planning to do in the situation. The bus would be coming tomorrow morning, and surely he couldn’t leave the club alone for another entire day.

“Mr. Schue? What’s your plan? With the club, and heading back, I mean.”

She knew what she wanted to do, of course. As far as Rachel was concerned, Beth needed her, more than ever after she realized the similarities between herself and Shelby. Rachel’s dads weren’t home, they’d been unable to find any information about another adult Beth would know, and so, as far as she was concerned, she should stay with Beth, take care of her until Shelby woke up.

But, as much as it pained her to admit, she was not in charge of the situation. Mr. Schuester was, and as she weighed the options, she felt very bad that he had to make such choices. Still, as he held Beth, she looked him in the eye, silently willing him to do what she wanted, no questions, just this once, when it was so important.

His jaw was clenching and she wanted to be able to offer him a good option, a good alternative to the choices he was struggling with before her. But, more than that, she wanted him to tell her she could stay with Beth, she could keep taking care of her sister and give Rachel what she wanted, so she continued to stare him down from the chair she was in.

“I,” he shifted, closing his eyes and shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, Rachel. I’m sorry.”

She wanted to make her suggestion, reiterate that she could take care of Beth on her own, for just a few more days, but he furrowed his brow and stared off to the side a moment, thinking. “Let me, let’s go outside. I have to call Emma.”

He waited for her to walk to his side before he led the way back out of the building. She thought it was a little strange, him referring to another teacher so informally to her, but she remembered that they’d been in and out of a romantic relationship (if the gossip was true—though, it did seem to be the one thing McKinley could actually do right) and maybe he’d just slipped up a little.

They stepped out of the elevator and walked outside, where he led her to a park bench by the doors to the hospital. “Why don’t you two sit here a moment, and I’ll make a call.” She just nodded and sat on the wooden seat, taking Beth as he offered her.

Rachel couldn’t help but watch Mr. Schue’s movements as he stood a few feet away, holding his phone to his ear. She thought about how different things had been over the past few hours, how she’d seen her teacher in such a different light. It was nice, she realized, how relaxed and happy he’d seemed. She reasoned that, if Nationals weren’t over, she could have probably secured herself a solo during this window of time.

He was pacing a little, and Rachel felt Beth tug at the bag to her side. “Do you want a snack? Huh?” And she opened the white and blue striped bag, pulling out the goldfish crackers, and smiled when Beth tugged at the bag.

“Fishies!” she giggled, and Rachel nodded, handing the little girl the open bag.

“That’s right, yummy fishies!” It felt good to let go and laugh with Beth, out in the open air, the breeze cool but comfortable. Rachel watched little fingers and little teeth and goldfish crackers, and took a moment.

Since yesterday her thoughts on her mother had been jumbled, worried at the initial news, then a little relieved when the doctor and nurse sounded so optimistic. She’d focused on Beth after, and then she’d felt so much anger and hurt when she spoke to Beth in the nursery. When she’d walked into the hospital today, she’d been mostly anxious, both hoping to find Shelby awake but also, just a little (such a small, small thought) that once Shelby was awake again she’d have to leave Beth.

But Shelby hadn’t been awake, she’d still been unconscious, and now Rachel was starting to worry again. Because she’d thought her mother would be awake by now, would be pushing her away and pulling Beth back. Shelby was still unconscious, and Rachel realized it was well past the six hour mark she’d read about once that meant Shelby was officially in a  _coma_.

It sounded so harsh, so hopeless, despite the fact that the doctors were saying the opposite, that she was getting better. It took gulps of air and the repetition of that thought through her head for Rachel to calm down again, to remember that Shelby was going to wake up, soon.

“Rachel?” His voice sounded panicked above her, and she looked up at Mr. Schue, his brows furrowed deeply as he rested a hand on her shoulder. His hand felt a little rough against the bare skin of her shoulder and upper back, as she wore the same halter dress she had the day before.

His voice broke something, and she felt her shoulders tense and her eyes water. She was crying, suddenly, and he was talking quickly, “Hey, Rachel, hey, it’s gonna be OK. Shelby’s going to be fine, don’t worry.” Mr. Schue sat down on the bench next to her, close, and she thought he was going to put his arm around her. He didn’t, but he set his hand on her upper back, on her bare skin, and rubbed small circles.

She was trying to stop crying, and was shaking with the effort as she brought her free hand to her face, hiding her tears. She hated crying in front of other people and she did it far more often than she wished. But to cry in front of him, when she’d just spent the past day being so motherly and mature, it felt worse.

She shook her head but was relieved that he left his hand on her back. “Rachel, I told you what the doctor said, she’s doing well.” Her cries weren’t subsiding, and she heard his breath catch just a little. The feeling of him so close to her was nice, she felt comforted and safe around him, and, mindful of the baby on her lap, she pressed back against his arm and pressed her forehead to his shoulder.

It was awkward because of the amount of space between them, and he stiffened immediately, not expecting her movements. But she didn’t pull back, just left her head on him, and sucked in a breath when his arm finally relaxed and his fingers drifted to her right arm, far from him. Mr. Schue pulled her a little closer, in a half hug, and just sat there until her cries subsided.

“Rach,” He was trying to get her attention, and the sudden burst of emotion over, she felt very embarrassed. Her cheeks were red, she knew, with embarrassment and effort from crying. She looked up anyway, smiling awkwardly at the gentle expression on his face. He pulled his arm back slowly, his fingers brushing the hair that fell down against her back, and she waited for him to pull away completely.

He didn’t, just dropped his arm between them and, with only a moment’s hesitation, wrapped his hand around hers where it rested on her thigh. She figured he was trying to figure out how to reassure her again, but she didn’t even quite know, so she looked up at him through damp lashes and gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry for the outburst, I’m fine now, I promise.” After a small beat, she added, “Thank you.”

He returned the smile and squeezed her hand, a sudden shiver running up her spine. “Do you still want to stay with Beth?”

She tried to stay quiet, or offer him some ambiguous answer that she understood this wasn’t her decision to make, that she respected his authority. But instead, she looked down at Beth and their hands, and said, “I don’t think I could leave her, not now.”

He dropped her hand, and she felt ice run through her veins as the mistake she just made. “However, I understand that this is—“

“Emma is on her way to New York.” It stopped her backtracking immediately.

“What?”

He set both of his hands between his knees, leaning his forearms on his thighs while he hunched forward. “She’s going to be here as soon as she can, which should be,” he glanced at his watch before squinting his eyes, looking at the buildings across the street. “At about ten o’clock tonight. She’ll take the kids back on the bus in the morning, leaving us her car.”

He stood up, putting his hands in his jean pockets, but didn’t look at Rachel. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll buy us enough time, hopefully.” His hands dropped from his pockets and he looked down at her, though he didn’t meet her eyes. “When we get back to Shelby’s you should try your dads again, but we’ll stop at the hotel now to pick up our things.”

His tone was strange, and made her feel guilty but also just a little curious. So she tilted her head and, as he started to walk toward the curb, her hand shot out. Rachel’s fingers gripped around his forearm, bare from the rolled up shirtsleeves, and she slid it down to take his hand as he’d just taken hers. When he looked at her curiously, she narrowed her eyes a little, and pursed her lips.

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes and nodded, and she could swear he relaxed under the press of her fingers. But he was moving again so she let go, just cradled Beth to her as they hailed a cab and headed to the hotel.


	5. Chapter 5

When they pulled up to the hotel, Rachel hesitated before getting out. At her still figure, Mr. Schue asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Should I go in? I don’t want to upset Quinn by bringing Beth into the hotel room.”

He nodded, but said, “Why don’t you wait in the lobby? I can have Mercedes grab your bag.” Rachel thought it over a second before agreeing, and the two did their system to get out of the cab, as Mr. Schue stood before taking Beth and then Rachel climbed out and took her back. Mr. Schuester paid the cabbie before ushering her into the lobby.

“I’ll be right back. Is there anything else Mercedes should grab?”

Rachel sat down on the couch Shelby had occupied with the two girls just the day before and shook her head. “Oh, wait! I have some things in the bathroom. And my dress is hanging in the closet.” He nodded and gave her a small smile before heading up the elevator.

“Are you all done?” Rachel asked as she noticed Beth was clinging to an empty plastic bag. She took the garbage from the girl and stood, looking for the trash can. It was in the corner, she saw, by a drinking fountain, so she threw the bag away before digging the sippy cup out of the diaper bag one handed, still holding Beth on her hip. “I bet you could use some water now, couldn’t you?” It was awkward as she held the cup in one hand and unscrewed the lid with the other, all the time keeping Beth to her with her hip jutted out and her forearm keeping the girl stable.

She managed, finally, and refastened the lid before giving Beth the cup. When the toddler started drinking she turned around, about to sit down on the couch until she caught the elevator doors opening.

 _That was fast_ , she thought, but when the doors slid open she saw Quinn standing in the small cubicle. Rachel swallowed hard, suddenly nervous and shifted, deciding not to sit down. The former cheerleader walked across the small lobby, and when she was in front of Rachel she felt the little girl look up at her biological mother.

Rachel’s eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open as she had no idea what to say. Quinn looked at her, hard, and Rachel was unable to read her expression. She thought, just for a moment, that Quinn wanted to hit her.

But in a flash her face opened, her eyelashes fluttering as she blinked and looked down at Beth, and Quinn’s hands came together in front of her stomach, protectively. Unintentionally Rachel’s arm tightened on Beth and she shifted the little girl close to her as if Quinn was going to take her back.

Rachel could see the woman in front of her tearing as she bit her lip, and Rachel’s jaw tightened, suddenly feeling guilty. “Quinn, this is Beth,” and it was a stupid thing to say, a bad comment that implied familiarity Rachel feared Quinn would take as an insult.

But Quinn just reached a hand out to Beth, like she was calling a bird to rest on her slack fist, and murmured, “Hi, Beth.” Rachel felt her chest open, no longer constricted as she waited for… _something_. Instead it was Quinn before her, watching her only daughter and about to cry.

“Would you like to hold her?” Again Rachel feared her words would upset Quinn, but the blonde just nodded, her hair catching on the fibers of her sweater as she reached out her arms. A flash of panic gripped Rachel and she gestured to the couch, waiting for Quinn to sit down. When she did, Rachel handed the little girl off, watching Beth carefully for any sign of discomfort.

She feared the reaction between the pair for both of them; she worried that Beth would be uncomfortable with someone she didn’t know, especially after the accident, but more than that she worried how Quinn would take it if her daughter began to cry in her arms.

She held her breath as the two stared at each other, Beth’s sippy cup still in her mouth, and watched as Quinn rested the toddler’s bottom on her knees, Beth’s chubby legs falling to either side of Quinn. Everything was still for a moment, no noise could permeate the thick air around them, until Beth pulled her sippy cup away and offered it to her mother.

Quinn’s laugh was mostly a breathless sigh as she smiled at her daughter and took the cup, setting it on the couch by her side before Rachel picked it up and put it in the diaper bag. Rachel watched uncomfortably as the two blondes watched each other, Quinn running her hands over Beth’s hair, holding her hands and tapping her nose as if she couldn’t believe the miracle in her arms.

It felt personal, too personal to watch this reunion, and Rachel shifted back a step, her hands clasping behind her back as she glanced to the elevator, praying for Mr. Schuester’s return. It was a moment she both prayed for and dreaded, as she thought about tearing Quinn away from her child again. But seeing Beth so happy with a woman she had no idea she had a connection to was upsetting, much more than Beth’s comfort with Mr. Schue had been. The jealousy was sudden but the guilt at these thoughts that replaced it was lingering, and Rachel just wanted things back to what they had been.

Back to Beth needing  _her_ , holding  _her_ , taking comfort in only  _her_ arms. The feeling of being wanted and needed was one that Rachel had never really experienced, and it had been  _heady_.

Quinn laughed, loud, as her daughter played with the buttons on her sweater, and Rachel tried to focus. She tried to remember that things had finally started to be pleasant between Quinn and her, and that this was Quinn’s daughter. She tried to remember that it was her that would be taking care of Beth for Shelby, and that Quinn deserved this time with Beth.

Still, when Mr. Schuester appeared in the elevator, Rachel breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at him. He smiled back and lumbered over to the couch holding two garment bags and two duffle bags. He watched Quinn and Beth a moment before setting the bags down and telling her, “Mercedes found your things in the bathroom, she put them in there.” She nodded when he pointed to the duffle and thanked him.

Quinn looked up, and saw her teacher with Rachel, before her smile dropped. Rachel watched, transfixed, as Quinn leaned down and pressed a kiss to the toddler’s head before she stood, holding Beth to her chest. She took a few steps until she was standing close to Rachel and Mr. Schuester, before she spoke in a low voice, looking at Mr. Schuester. “Thank you for taking care of her, for me, I mean. I just, I can’t—“ and out of the corner of her eye, Rachel could see Mr. Schue shake his head, even though her attention was focused only on Quinn.

Rachel knew she should tell Quinn that she didn’t have to explain, that Shelby hadn’t ever explained to her, really, and Rachel had been fine. But instead Quinn turned to Rachel, but looked down at Beth. “I—yesterday, it was just all too much, and I couldn’t.” She looked up and met Rachel’s eyes, keeping contact as she added, “I’m sorry that I blamed you. I know you were just helping.”

Quinn’s acknowledgement of Rachel’s intentions felt amazing, like she had  _finally_  done the right thing, but all she could do was nod, and shrug one shoulder in a gesture she hoped conveyed the message she wanted to give.

Quinn looked down at Beth and hugged her, before kissing her again, this time on the forehead. She sniffled, and Rachel realized that Quinn looked sad, almost heartbroken, but she also looked determined. It was a knowing kind of look she had now, as she passed the toddler back to Rachel and whispered, “You be a good girl for your sister, alright?”

Rachel’s eyes shot up to hers at the sentiment, and she wondered who the comment was for. All of them, she realized, as Quinn wiped at her cheeks for the few tears that had fallen and looked up at Rachel with a knowing look. It was an acknowledgement for everyone that Shelby was Rachel’s mother, no matter how complicated their relationship got, and that the same was true for Quinn and Beth.

Rachel had never thought before that Quinn would understand her, of everyone, when it came to her family life. Really, it wasn’t like they were in the same situation; yes Quinn could identify with Shelby, but she’d never expected her to identify with Rachel. Quinn let her hand drop from the back of her daughter’s head to her side before she ducked her head and left the group, getting on the elevator.

Unexpectedly, Rachel realized, Quinn  _did_  understand it, at least a little, and that gave Rachel a small flutter of hope for something.

“Are you ready to go?” Mr. Schue’s question was gentle, and she appreciated the tone before nodding, and offering to take her duffle. “I’ve got it, it’s fine. Honestly, I was expecting you to have three or four bags, so this is nothing.” He was walking ahead of her to the automatic doors, but she could see a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. He was teasing her, she realized, and it was unexpected but nice.

“I was just afraid you couldn’t carry it in addition to the salon you have in yours,” she smirked as she caught up to him.

He looked down at her and raised his eyebrows with a chuckle and a, “Truce?”

Rachel looked to Beth who was smiling up at her and she sighed theatrically. “I guess.”

()()()

The cab ride back to Shelby’s was gratefully quick, and soon they were back in Shelby’s apartment, now armed with their luggage. Mr. Schuester dropped it behind the couch, and Rachel brought Beth over to the high chair to set her down. “Are you hungry, Mr. Schue?” She blushed as she realized how domestic the question sounded, but also how strange it was to call him by such a formal title when they’d be essentially living together for another day or two.

“A little, but I’ll feed Beth first if you want to eat now.” He went to the refrigerator and leaned down, pulling out a few slices of cheese. She looked over his shoulder as he did, taking a quick scan of the items in the refrigerator.

When he turned around they were close, and she blushed before looking down and away. “Well, I can make us lunch while you feed her. I don’t know if I can make anything spectacular, but I saw enough to make a few sandwiches.”

Mr. Schue pulled a frying pan from under the sink and started to warm it before looking at her with a smile. “That would be great, Rachel. Whatever you’re having will be fine.” She smiled and nodded as he started to prepare, what she assumed to be, grilled cheese for Beth. As he did she pulled out another cup for Beth and filled it with juice, before handing it to the little girl.

She began pulling out a tomato, cucumber, a container of sprouts and, though she was surprised, an avocado. “Is turkey good?” He nodded, and continued buttering a piece of bread.

“Wait, I thought you were vegan?” Rachel looked over as she set the bag of deli meat on the counter by the other food.

“I am.” She shrugged her shoulders and shut the refrigerator door, before taking four slices of bread out of the bag by him and adding, “My dads aren’t though, and I cook for them all the time.” He didn’t say anything and she thought, briefly and with red cheeks, about the venison casserole she’d made Mr. Schue during her infatuation.

She prayed he wasn’t reminded of it as he made Beth’s lunch and she made theirs. They worked quietly, watching Beth in between tasks, only to find her watching their motions and drinking her juice quietly. Rachel turned back to the near finished sandwiches, and hummed as she put sprouts on both and turkey on his.

Rachel walked around the counter to the other side of the kitchen to grab two plates from the upper cabinet. She blushed as she had to stand on her toes to reach them, but finally got them and shut the door, resuming her tune when she realized Mr. Schue hadn’t seen her struggle.

She divvied up the sandwiches and started to put the ingredients back in the fridge. When she was finished she went back to the cabinet and found a small, plastic Disney princess plate for Beth. She handed it to Mr. Schuester as she noticed the golden brown color of the sandwich. He looked at her and tilted his head, asking, “Song and Dance?”

She blushed, remembering she’d been humming  _Unexpected Song_  from the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, and nodded. He smiled at her and took the plate, putting it down before taking a knife and cutting it into four segments.

Watching him put the plate in front of Beth, she wondered why she’d only eat when Mr. Schuester would try to feed her. Feeling her stomach rumble she took the same seat she’d eaten at the night before and began to eat her veggie sandwich as Beth started to eat her grilled cheese.

After a moment he stood and sat down next to her where she’d set his sandwich. “It looks great, thanks Rach.” She just nodded and continued to eat hers, trying in vain not to watch for his reaction as he bit into the bread.

He glanced at her sideways, and she knew she was busted. “Delicious,” he smirked, but it was the response she wanted so she just looked down at her plate with a smile, finishing her lunch quickly.

Of the three of them she was the first finished, so she rinsed her plate in the sink, realizing she’d have to do the dishes later that night, when Beth was asleep. She glanced over at the toddler and found her finished, too, so she gave the girl’s hair a stroke and took the plate to repeat her actions for the new set of crumbs.

Beth was talking, mumbling her jarbled toddler phrases, so Rachel just grinned and picked her up from the chair, setting her down on the ground. Immediately, Beth ran down the hallway, so Rachel followed.

The little girl was reaching for a colorful stuffed dog from a toy box in the corner of the room. She wrangled it free and stumbled out of the room, back into the living room as Rachel followed her to make sure she didn’t hurt herself.

Beth plopped herself down in front of the TV in her spot, and when she caught sight of the puzzle on the floor she dropped the dog and started to play with it. Rachel sat down on the couch and watched Beth before she heard the water running in the kitchen.

Mr. Schue was rinsing his plate as she’d done, before he walked into the living room and sat down at the other end of the couch. Remembering she had her duffle bag now, including the Broadway history book she’d picked up last week, Rachel stood. She circled the couch and picked up her duffle and their garment bags, before dropping her bag in Shelby’s room, fishing out the book and hanging the garment bags on the back of the bathroom door. When she got back, Mr. Schue was watching Beth play with her toys.

He sat there silently for a moment as Rachel read, uncomfortable in the sudden lack of action. Beth was fed and playing, a plan was in action for the club, and it was now just a waiting game as they watched the toddler.

“What are you reading?” The question was hesitant, like he wasn’t certain he wanted to talk to her, but his curiosity sounded real so she answered him.

“It’s this fantastic book about the history of Broadway.” He looked interested, so she barreled on. “It starts by talking about  _The Beggar’s Opera_ , and how it came to Broadway with a touring theatre troupe. And then there’s some background on  _The Black Crook_ , and the earliest productions which were mostly staged productions of Shakespearian plays.” Rachel flipped through a few pages, until she came to one of the later chapters. “And, here! There’s a whole chapter on the creation process, with some quotes and writing samples from Andrew Lloyd Webber, Cole Porter, Stephen Sondheim.” He was smiling at her, she realized, but it was more amused than patronizing, so she added one last bit. “It’s written by a long-time chorus member, so there’s also a lot of memoir-type excerpts, even though that’s not the purpose of the book.”

She exhaled and smiled back at him. “I could loan it to you. After I finish it, of course.”

Mr. Schue just nodded, and said, “I’d like that. It sounds fascinating.” It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t making fun of her, just agreeing about the subject matter. So she gave him a sharp nod and went back to her book.

As she read, she kept glancing up to check on Beth, only to find the little girl still immersed in her puzzle. As Rachel turned the page, she caught Mr. Schue moving out of the corner of her eye. He reached for the remote control, turning on the TV and flipping channels.

She continued to read, ignoring him until he landed on a station. Looking over the top of her book, she smiled. “ _High Society_? That’s one of my favorite Cole Porter musicals.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before ducking her head and continuing to read. After a few moments she realized she hadn’t been processing any of the words on the page, so she slid the bookmark from its resting place in the back of the book and marked her page, closing the cover and setting it on the table.

Rachel leaned back against the arm of the couch and watched the movie, feeling herself start to relax into the fabric as the she fell dreamily into the story. As Grace Kelly floated on a boat with Bing Crosby, Rachel caught movement from the floor.

Beth was getting up, and once she was standing she started to head to the hallway. Rachel followed her immediately, tracking her little sister into the nursery. Little hands pulled at a book from the shelf, and Rachel smiled. “Do you want me to read a story?” She realized, suddenly, that Beth should probably be taking a nap soon.

The blonde ignored her words, just pulled the book free and toddled back into the living room where Rachel watched her stand by the couch. Mr. Schue was smiling at her, and he reached out to take the book. Rachel rounded the corner of the couch and sat down in her end, before Beth crawled into her lap.

“Is Mr. Schue gonna read to you?” Beth shifted in her lap, getting comfortable, and smiling at the man across the couch. She was nodding and talking quickly, motioning to the book as she looked up at Rachel.

“OK, Beth, I’ll read to you.” He looked at Rachel and rolled his eyes affectionately. He started to do so as he introduced Snow White in book form. Rachel was a little surprised, based on her interactions with Shelby, that the woman was so pro-princess. She hadn’t struck her as the type, but, Rachel realized, it wasn’t as though they’d spent much time together.

Pulled out of her thoughts, Beth started whining, leaning away from Rachel as she tried to see the pictures. Rachel moved her arms away from the girl to let her go to Mr. Schue, but she didn’t, just continued to whine.

Rachel scooted closer to Mr. Schue, hoping that was what the toddler wanted. For a moment she seemed fine, but she tried to look at the book again, still making angry noises. Remembering how cuddly Beth had been the night before, Rachel realized how Beth wanted to sit, by both the reader and the holder, so, with a hesitant slide, Rachel moved closer to Mr. Schue.

There was little space between them now, but she was grateful he understood what she was doing and leaned away from the arm of the couch, angling the book so all of them could see it. He looked uncomfortable, his arm hesitating before he lowered it to brush against hers. She thought for a moment that he might just hand her the book and walk away, but instead he gave her a furtive smile and started to read.

When he opened his mouth none of his hesitation was audible, he just sounded gentle and patient as he read the opening to the toddler. As he turned the page, Beth leaned off of her lap a little to lean her head against his upper arm, smiling and giggling at the pictures of the dwarves. Rachel felt a softness overtake her as she caught him tense up a little, trying not to jostle the little girl as he turned the page.

Rachel tried to focus her attention on the story and Beth, but she couldn’t stop watching Mr. Schue. The uneasiness she’d sensed earlier had faded as he had started to read, his voice changing as he got into the story. Beth had leaned off of Rachel’s lap almost all the way, and was now sitting between them, with her legs in Rachel’s lap and her head on Mr. Schue’s lap, her body contorted in the way that can only be comfortable for a small child.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and she couldn’t help but copy him as she looked up at his expression, his eyes soft as he looked down at the girl in his lap and stroked her hair. Beth shifted a little, and Rachel noticed her eyes were closing. Quietly, Rachel slipped the sandals off of her feet, setting them on the floor by her own.

Mr. Schue looked over at her motion before going back to the book. His voice was melodic, and she realized she shouldn’t have expected anything else. His hand was rubbing Beth’s arm now, in a soothing gesture, and it caused their upper arms to brush a few times. It was strange, she realized, being in such close contact with this man. She scanned his face to see if it was strange for him, too, but he just read, his eyes blinking every once in a while.

The motion drew her attention and she realized just how  _long_  his eyelashes were. He had beautiful eyes, and she knew that, of course, but she’d never really  _thought_  about it. Because whenever they were this close, he was pretty much yelling at her about her bad attitude, or her selfishness, or some other ridiculous reason. But now? Seeing him this close up when he was so relaxed was almost  _breathtaking._

Rachel started copying his stroking motion on Beth’s legs, as she felt her eyes become heavy. The repetitive motion of her hand and the gentle rise and fall of his voice in her ears was so relaxing, and she dropped her head back a little against the couch.

As he neared the last page she felt Beth’s weight slacken against them and heard her breath even out. Rachel realized she was asleep, and wondered how the little girl could fall asleep so easily before her own head rolled lazily toward Mr. Schue.

()()()

Something was shifting beneath her, Rachel realized, as she slowly opened her eyes. The room was darker, but the sun was still out, and she figured it must be late afternoon or early evening. Immediately she thought of Beth, but before she could get up to check she caught movement in front of the TV, and saw Beth, playing with a few stuffed animals and watching the movie that had come on.

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief that the little girl was fine, but when she rested her head back down she furrowed her brows at the hard press of the pillow. The shifting started again, and slowly Rachel realized how she had been napping on the couch.

 _Oh,_ she blushed. There was no pillow beneath her head—she had fallen asleep on Mr. Schuester, and he had apparently done the same. He was leaned back against the arm of the couch, his legs extended all the way out behind her. She tilted her head back hesitantly only to find his eyes closed and his mouth parted in sleep.

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief and tried not to move. Suddenly she felt something brush her stomach and she looked down, biting her lip as she realized it was his  _hand._  His fingers were curled over her hip gently, and she felt the air rush from her lungs as she thought about him touching her.

The couch was narrow, and even though she was on her side she was nearing the edge so, instinctively, she leaned back, pressing against him. He made a small noise and she felt the fingers on her hip tighten ever so slightly.

She knew she should move, that he would be embarrassed and upset if he knew how they were positioned. But she couldn’t help but close her eyes, just for a moment, and realize how comfortable she was, how safe.

She’d made-out with Puck, and she’d fooled around with Finn, but she’d never just laid down with either boy.  _Boy_. The word floated in her head and she realized that, of course, a teenage boy couldn’t really control himself enough to just hold her.

Mr. Schue’s fingers flexed and she looked up again, opening her eyes slowly, only to see him still sleeping. Again she told herself to get up, to move out of his embrace, but she knew she didn’t want to, not when she felt so  _safe_. She thought back to when he’d held her hand, when he’d stroked her forearm and put his arm around her shoulder.

For a moment, she reasoned that it was the protection of an older male she felt, that he was an authority figure that was taking care of her. But then she thought, went back to the moments  _before_  he touched her, the hesitant motions, the furtive glances and the stammered words. It was more than that, at least a little, and she found herself hoping that it was because he knew it was more than that, too, that  _they_ were more than that.

Rachel watched the curled fingers and palm resting on her dress, and bit her lip. Slowly, she brought her hand across her stomach, hesitating as it rested an inch above his. As she held her breath, she slid her fingers between his, cupping her own hip as she rested her fingers on the back of his hand.

He didn’t move, so she waited for a moment, eyes closed as she soaked in the moment, a moment she knew she’d be hard pressed to get back.

Beth was still playing on the floor and she realized she may need to be changed, that she’d probably need food, and the sense of responsibility she’d been enjoying suddenly seemed very ill-timed, despite the knowledge that neither she nor Mr. Schuester would be on that couch without that responsibility.

Rachel was working up the courage to take her hand back, to get up and leave the warmth of his body. Before she could, the fingers interlocked with hers stiffened at the same time his chest did, and she dreaded what came next as she realized he was awake.

“Rachel?” She stayed still, willing it away, just leaving her hand slack in his and trying to even her breath. His voice was heavy but hesitant, and she listened as he asked again. “Rach?” His hand twitched in hers and it took everything in her to keep from responding as he slid his fingers back out of her grasp. She felt his body back away from hers as he pressed himself back against the couch, and heard his sleep-laden voice once more.

“Rachel, honey, wake up,” as he rested a hand on the back of her neck beneath her hair and shook her a little.

She made sleepy mumbling noises as she pretended to wake up, and reluctantly looked up at his face. Surprisingly his expression was still sleep-soft as he looked down at her, and the only other emotion she could read was a tentative look of guilt.

With a bashful smile she leaned herself up, pushing on the back of the couch as she felt him sit up behind her. He was looking around awkwardly and scratching at the back of his neck, so she stood up from the couch and went over to Beth, trying to ignore the feelings rushing through her.

Squatting, Rachel brushed Beth’s hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear as the little girl played with the stuffed animals. “’You doing all right, sweetie?” The endearment rolled off of her tongue and she blushed, thinking of his sleep-laden “honey” from a moment ago.

Sniffing the air, Rachel wrinkled her nose and put her hands under Beth’s arms as she lifted the little girl and straightened her legs, standing. The stuffed animals fell from her hands, hitting the ground as Rachel settled her on her hip and went into the nursery.

She laid the little girl down on the changing table and started to clean her up. As Rachel went through the motions she was getting better at she felt his eyes on her. Glancing to the side she saw him, again in the doorway. He was shifting a little, hesitant, and she gave him a small smirk.

“You can come in, you know. She doesn’t bite.” He gave a small laugh, but she could see the tension in his chest abate as he physically relaxed. When he stepped closer to them she could tell he was watching her face, not Beth’s, making Rachel shift under his scrutiny.

It was the first time since they’d taken over with Beth that she could tell he was watching  _her,_  and not the little girl. It felt like her lungs were constricting, just a little, as she tried to figure out why he was staring at her.

The air around her became heavy as she remembered how aggressive she’d been during her crush the previous year, and wondered if that was how he was thinking of her.

 _But_ , a voice sounded, small and nagging as she thought about how she’d felt pressed against him on the couch. She thought about how his fingers had felt on her hip, how he’d whispered her name and held her to him, just for a second.

She watched him out of the side of her eyes, tracking his movements as he slid his hands into his pockets. He was nervous, she could tell, but the frustrating part was that she couldn’t figure out  _why_. It could have been several things, but she was confident it was one of the two thoughts in her mind.

And she realized she wanted to know which one it was.  _Badly_. “What are—“

His phone ringing cut her off and she suppressed the urge to pout as she redressed Beth. “It’s Emm—Ms. Pillsbury.” With that he left the room, and as she sat Beth up she looked at the empty doorframe, hearing his muffled voice.

Rachel turned back as Beth started to speak her toddler language, moving her arms and looking up at Rachel. She smiled down at the girl, holding her stomach and tickling it playfully. Beth squealed and pulled her arms in, laughing, as she squirmed from her touch.

A little worried about Beth moving around on the high table, she put her on the floor, and giggled when Beth attempted to copy her actions, curling her fingers into Rachel’s legs and moving them around as she pushed her weight against her older sister.

“Are you trying to tickle  _me?!”_  Her faux-shock elicited another giggle from the blonde and Rachel matched it, before sinking to the floor and scooping Beth up into her arms. The two wrestled for a moment, Rachel easily deterring Beth from reaching her stomach, and Rachel got so lost in playing that a noise in the doorway startled her.

With a gasp she looked up, her eyes widening before she smiled bashfully at his wide grin. “Emma’ll be here around ten tonight, she just said. And then I called Finn.” A rush of panic and guilt gripped her at the nervous look on Mr. Schuester’s face.

She started to ask what was wrong but he answered first. “He sounded worried, which, of course, worried me. Do,” he seemed hesitant as he narrowed his eyes and gave her a lopsided smile. “You think you’ll be fine if I run over there, make sure they haven’t done anything terrible?”

She nodded her head immediately. “Of course. I told you, Mr. Schue, you really don’t have to stay here, with me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of Beth on my own.” Rachel could’ve sworn he looked hurt before he turned to walk to the door.

Rising off of the floor, she met him at the door. She hadn’t meant to  _insult_  him—all she’d wanted to do was let him know he didn’t need to be there. When he turned to her, though, he was smiling, and asked, “Do you need me to pick anything up while I’m out?”

She realized as he spoke that his smile was fake—good, but very, very untrue. So, she thought for a moment before speaking. “We’re almost of out apple juice.” He nodded, and she saw the corners of his mouth soften slightly. She remembered how goal-driven she’d found him to be, and added, “Shelby only drinks coffee, I think, but I’d love some tea if you see some.”

Rachel was trying to stay on the line between giving him something to do and making demands, so she quit. “OK, it shouldn’t take longer than an hour. And, um, if anything goes wrong, call me and I’ll come back.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at him she smiled and nodded. He left, then, grabbing his jacket as he closed the door. Beth had followed her out to the kitchen and was standing by her feet watching the door. She looked back up at Rachel, and the brunette smiled down at Beth.

The little girl walked into the living room, climbing onto the couch as Rachel watched. She couldn’t help but feel a little anger at the words Mr. Schue had said to her. He’d treated her like a child, telling her to call him like she needed help. It hurt, she realized, that he thought she couldn’t handle it.

Rachel sat down on the couch by Beth, and the little girl crawled into her lap looking up at her. Beth was an extremely cuddly child, she realized, as the little girl rested her head on Rachel’s chest and closed her eyes. 

Absentmindedly stroking the blonde hair on her head, Rachel thought again about Mr. Schue’s distrust of her.  _Well, that wasn’t quite it_ , she mused. She thought about how sad he’d been when she had gotten mad, had told him she could do it on her own.

She’d always thought Mr. Schue was so different from her, didn’t understand her at all, and that’s why he was always trying to sabotage her career.  _What if_ , she wondered,  _that wasn’t the reason_. She’d never really given it much thought, just assumed he was another teacher that didn’t understand her motivation, her drive.

The memory of holding Beth in her arms played behind her eyes as she held her now, and the thoughts of how jealous she’d been when Mr. Schue had held her teased at the edges of her mind. Rachel loved Beth, in a way, in the long-distance way that she’d loved Shelby her whole life. But right now, Beth meant something else to her, too. She was someone who wanted her, who made her feel needed, and that’s why she was here now, taking care of her sister.

It dawned on her, then, that maybe Mr. Schue was feeling the same way. That he’d been hesitant to leave her alone, not because he didn’t trust her abilities, but that he wanted the same thing she did. After all, he hadn’t taken issue with her being the one to care for Beth, but he’d been so  _grateful_  every time he got to feed the toddler, or hold her.

It felt freeing, this new idea that he might not think she was incapable. She thought back to all of the times she clamored for the solo, for authority, for anything that would prove she could  _do this_ , whatever “this” happened to be at the time. She thought about how many times he discouraged her, took her part away. But she also thought about the times he encouraged her and gave her more responsibility, like he knew when she most needed to be needed. Remembering Mrs. Schuester, Rachel wondered if there was anyone that made him feel needed when he needed it.

Beth shifted in her lap, and talked at her, her words incomprehensible as she babbled.  Rachel’s smile was a little far away, dreamy looking as she thought about how good it felt to be needed. Mr. Schuester was a great teacher, a good person, though he made some bad choices regarding vocal assignments sometimes. But he was always there for everyone in the club, and Rachel decided that she could let him know that they all needed him. It was more than just him being their coach—they were all a family, the club, and, though she knew he didn’t always feel like it, he was included in that.

He always seemed hesitant to get too close to them, her especially, she felt, but she also knew he didn’t have anyone else. He’d had Ms. Pillsbury, she’d heard, for a while, but then she’d married Dr. Howell and everything had changed. He’d gotten more withdrawn, seemed angrier, and she thought about the day he yelled at her before Sectionals. Sure, she’d been trying to get a rise out of someone (Finn, mostly, but him, too, just a little), but his reaction had been more than expected.

When Ms. Holiday had come along it was strange, the thought of them dating so soon after she’d warned him she was after  _his job_ , but nothing really came of it, and he was happy again, letting her sing more, but also talking to them more, having fun with them again.

Rachel realized that she knew a lot about him, about his relationships. To be fair, he knew a lot about the kids in the club, more than he should, probably. But they were a family, and family shared things, right? They just cared about each other, that was all.

Without trying, Rachel thought back to when she’d  _cared_  about Mr. Schue a little too much. Her crush had been embarrassing, and out of line, and a dozen other things that every student’s crush on their teacher was. When Suzy Pepper had confronted her it had made sense, and she’d apologized, feeling bad for using him the way she had.

But he’d been nice, and supportive, and understanding. And she’d started to care for him more that day, after he’d been so  _sweet_ , even when she didn’t deserve it _._  She liked to think, despite their arguments and disputes, and the occasional urge she had to hit him, that they were friends, in a way. They were all a family, of course. But Rachel always felt like there was a respect forming between the two, that they’d finally figured out that they were both strong and stubborn, and that, even though they butted heads occasionally, that neither  _meant_  to hurt the other.

These feelings she’d felt growing had been respect, and care, and a lot of things besides similarity. Rachel’s reflection today, about need, about the urge to have someone  _want_  you for something, though, that was throwing her for a loop. She’d always known that they couldn’t actually have a deeper relationship, a deeper friendship, when he so clearly didn’t  _get_  her.

Except, she was discovering, that maybe he did.

Rachel’s head was swimming, and she shook it slightly, blinking her eyes and smiling bigger at Beth. “What do you want to do, Beth?” She was giggling and slapping her hands, clearly happy but giving Rachel no idea of what she wanted. Her head was still feeling a little full as she thought about Mr. Schuester, the club, her relationships. “Do you want me to sing to you?”

Beth just looked up at her so Rachel beamed, more than grateful for a captive audience. Briefly she considered standing, actually performing for her sister, but instead she stayed where she was and made sure to keep her voice a little quiet, to avoid being too loud when Beth was so close.

“How about some Cinderella? With all of your Disney has your mom ever shown you the real musical?” She just smiled at Rachel as she began to sing, keeping eye contact with those green eyes as she sang “In My Own Little Corner.”

Beth seemed mesmerized, and as Rachel sang she propped her legs up, leaning Beth against her bent thighs so they could watch each other, each leaning back. With her hands now free, Rachel allowed herself to act out a few parts, illustrating with an invisible spear as she sang, “ _I’m a huntress in an African safari_.”

Beth was giggling, loving her show so she continued, her eyes wide in false alarm as she shrugged, “ _In the night I sally forth to seek my quarry, and I find I forgot to bring my gun_!” As she finished the song she took Beth’s hands in hers and moved them, playing. The two sat in the quiet of the otherwise empty apartment until Beth’s chatter started again.

It was cute, and Rachel ruffled her hair, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something, that the easy domesticity she’d fallen into was harder, without Mr. Schue there.

The thought was unexpected, though at the same time she had to admit that her thoughts had been going there since yesterday. The family they’d feigned for a little more than twenty-four hours had been apart for the first time since they’d joined together, and Rachel missed him, just a little.

To distract herself she glanced at the clock and rose, picking Beth up and talking to her as she put her in her high chair. Rachel realized Beth should be hungry by now, so she secured Beth in the seat and went to Shelby’s radio, turning it to some pop/rock station. A Matchbox Twenty song floated through the air, and though she couldn’t name which one, she started to sing along as she boiled some water to make Beth some pasta.

The radio cycled through several familiar songs that had defined her childhood, classic rock and a few others as she dropped a small serving of bow-tie noodles into the rolling water and taking out a block of cheese to grate.

Before she began to shred the cheese she went to Beth’s diaper bag to pull out the sippy cup and, after rinsing it out, she filled it with the last of the juice and gave it to the little girl. She drank it happily and Rachel went back to the cheese.

Grated in a bowl she checked the noodles only to find them in need of a good five more minutes. She leaned back against the counter before glancing to the sink and finding a few plates and bowls that hadn’t been washed yet, and, after checking over to Beth, she washed the dishes.

When she was finished the pasta was, too, so she poured some milk in the pot and added butter and cheese, mixing it all together for homemade macaroni and cheese. She grabbed a small plastic bowl from the cabinet and another small spoon like she’d used the previous night, and dished up a small bowl of mac and cheese. Touching the noodles lightly she smiled as they felt cool enough to give to Beth.

“OK, here you go, Beth. My dads love my mac and cheese, so I know you will, too.” She set the bowl in front of Beth, giving her the spoon, but she was met with a blank stare. “Beth, it’s really good.” She still didn’t take the spoon.

Her brows furrowed, Rachel went to the cupboard and pulled out a container of applesauce, remembering how much Beth had liked that. The brunette put it on the table in front of Beth, but the little girl didn’t move.

Sighing, Rachel took the spoon back and tried to copy Mr. Schue’s motion, feeding the girl, but she didn’t open her mouth.

Rachel was growing frustrated, and she wondered what she was doing wrong. “Are you a vegan, too?” Her teasing was light, but she couldn’t help but feel hurt that the toddler wouldn’t eat. She’d had lunch a few hours ago but it had been light, and she knew Beth had to be a little hungry by now.

As she tried to feed her again there was a noise at the door. Figuring he was back, she put Beth’s spoon down in the mac and cheese and moved toward the door to let him in. But before she could the door opened and he entered, a grocery bag in one hand and a hot drink cup in the other.

He set the bag down inside the apartment and pulled the keys from the door, closing it and turning to face her. He smiled and handed the cup to her, with, “Hey. I didn’t know what kind you wanted so I just got green tea, I hope that’s fine.”

Rachel smiled, taking the cup in both hands as she nodded. “That’s perfect, thank you.” She smelled the brew and closed her eyes a moment before setting it on the counter and sticking out a hand. “Would you like some help?”

He shook his head, moving around the counter with the bag. “No, I’ve got it. Here’s the juice,” he pulled a large carton out of the bag and she took it, going over to Beth and refilling the cup. Once done she put it in the refrigerator and turned to face him.

He’d pulled out the rest of the contents of the bag, setting it on the counter as he folded up the bag and set it on the other end of the counter. There was a box of tea packets and a carton of soy milk, she noticed immediately, and felt a shy smile pull at her lips as she put the milk away. Also on the counter were several containers of some kind of wonderful-smelling food. Tearing her eyes from the spread before her she looked at him. “How did it go?”

He laughed, taking a seat on the stool by the counter. “Fine. Everyone is fine, just a little bored. Quinn’s been keeping them in check, though, and because of her,” he struggled for a moment, “reaction to everything, the rest of the kids are too nervous to try to pull anything.” He smiled, playing with one of the containers before opening it. “There were no bottles there, thankfully, and no damage, although Puck seemed awfully anxious to get me out of their room.”

Rachel inwardly groaned at whatever problem Noah had caused, until he laughed. “Finn told me on my way out that Puck had a date with one of the hotel staff, but that nothing else had happened. So, no property damage or drunken incidents. I call that a win for a dozen unsupervised teens.”

She giggled, but she felt a little awkward at the conversation. He was talking to her like she wasn’t one of those teenagers, when she very much was. Still, she appreciated his information and she relaxed, happy to know that there was no trouble for any of them to deal with.

Mr. Schue looked over at Beth and smiled. “You fed her?” It seemed sad and her conclusion came rushing back to her, the feeling of being needed, their similarity, his need for a goal, an objective.

She felt a pressure in her chest as she phrased her words, nervous to admit that she couldn’t do something. But she reminded herself that telling others she  _could_  do things had never gotten her more than an eye roll and a dismissal, and she decided if this would work on anyone it would be him. “Not exactly. I made her my famous homemade macaroni and cheese, which I’m told is delicious, but she refuses to eat it. I,” she took a breath, “can’t get her to eat. She only seems to eat when you feed her.” He was watching her carefully, so with fists clenched behind her, she gulped, “I need your help.”

He smiled quickly, before nodding and tightening up his smile. “No problem. I brought home a few different things for dinner. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, exactly, but almost all of them are vegan, except for the one on the end, there, it’s got meat in it, and a few have cheese, but they’re marked with an ‘X’ on the top.”

She felt her mouth drop open a little as she stared at him. It was all so… _thoughtful_. Finally she pulled her lip back up to the other and she smiled, before turning to get two plates and a few forks. When she turned he’d pulled a stool up to Beth, and was already feeding her the macaroni and cheese, and applesauce. “How did you do that?”

He looked at her over his shoulder and shrugged. “Terri—my ex-wife—had a lot of nephews, and I got some practice when they were little. And not yet evil.” She giggled and he did, too. “They were triplet boys that had no discipline, whatsoever. One time they came over they managed to ruin a couch, a TV and our refrigerator.” She raised her eyebrows, laughing a little. “All in less than an hour, mind you.”

“That sounds absolutely horrific. How old are they now?”

“About nine.” Beth had started feeding herself again, so he stood and walked over to the counter, opening a few containers and looking at the contents before taking one of the forks she offered and dishing himself some food.

She watched him a moment as he did, and when he picked up one of the cheese dishes she wondered if they marked it or if he did. Had it been the restaurant, what had he told them?  _I have a vegan at home_ drifted through her head and she blushed, knowing she was presumptuous but hoping it was what he said, all the same.

He must have felt her watching him because he looked over, offering her the spinach rolls after he’d taken one. “Thanks, Mr. Schue.” She waited a moment and hoped he understood how grateful she was, for him being there, helping her, trusting her and, mostly, for the way their relationship had shifted in the past few days, how it had mellowed.

He smiled at her and nodded, and she thought that, maybe, he understood all of it, maybe even felt the same. They were similar, she was learning, after all. “It smells delicious.”

“The restaurant was next to the store, and just walking past it smelled fantastic. And I didn’t know if there was anything, really, for us to eat.” They dished up the rest without talking, just the radio playing, and when she had a full plate she set it down by her stool and started to box up the food again.

“Hey, go eat. I can put this away.”

Rachel shook her head. “I can put it away. You went shopping, so it’s only fair.”

“Uh uh, you cooked for Beth.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes playfully and replied, “But you were the one who managed to feed her, so I can put the food away while you eat.”

He started to open his mouth, but instead threw up his hands in a mock surrender, and sighed, “If you insist.”

She felt a surge of pride at her win and considered sticking her tongue out. But before she could she decided it was a little juvenile, and kept her mouth closed, allowing a smirk. When she was finished she sat down next to him, looking at the food in front of her before digging into the spinach roll. “Mmm, this is delicious, thank you.” She reached for the tea beside her, cool but not cold, and sipped at the liquid.

His mouth was full so he just bobbed his head before swallowing. After a beat, he spoke. “Everyone wanted you to know they’re thinking of you. They told me to pass on a group hug.” He laughed the last bit and she smiled, but she couldn’t help but wish that he would have done just that. He was watching her out of the side of his eyes, and she wondered if maybe he would have, if they hadn’t been sitting.

Beth finished her dinner and Mr. Schuester got up to let her out of the high chair. Rachel was mostly done with her own dinner, so when Mr. Schue laughed she got up to stand by him. Before them was Beth, completely covered in cheese and applesauce. She blushed as she realized she’d been distracted by his presence and had forgotten to check on her. It also meant, she realized, that he had forgotten, too.

“I guess someone’s getting a bath tonight.”

She smiled, ignoring the last few bites on her plate and picked up Beth to head into the bathroom. Mr. Schue followed, not saying anything as he did. “You’re very sticky, Beth,” she giggled. The little girl smiled and Rachel looked over her shoulder, rolling her eyes as he’d done to her earlier.

Rachel set Beth down on the closed toilet seat and kneeled on the floor, her bare legs grateful for the bathmat that saved her from the chill of the tile floor.

As she started to undress Beth, the little girl squirmed and Rachel inwardly groaned, fearing Beth’s dislike of baths. She’d never given a baby a bath before, but her cousin Leon’s kids had been the focus of bath time horror stories for years.

“Will you hold her so I can take this off?” He hesitated a moment and when she looked up he was leaning against the counter, his eyes downcast.

He looked uncomfortable and she thought about what she’d said. With a small smirk she gestured at Beth and repeated the end of her question.

“Oh, of course. Sorry.” He kneeled down next to her to hold onto Beth’s squirming figure. She unsnapped the blue shirt Beth wore and pulled it off, her movements shifting her arms and pressing her upper arm against his. He was so close to her, suddenly, and she felt her hands begin to shake slightly.

His hands were resting on Beth’s waist by her skirt, and she lowered her own hands to the waistband, her fingers brushing the back of his. Rachel shifted as she did so, bringing their arms closer and she felt him try to pull back before Beth bobbled and he brought his hands back.

Her head was getting a little fuzzy as she felt his skin on hers, and when Beth’s diaper was off Rachel turned, quickly to put the drain-stopper in the tub and start to run the water.

She stood and he did, too, holding Beth as he rose. Rachel looked up at him and felt her cheeks flush a little as she realized how tall he was in front of her. She ducked her head and moved toward him, but he didn’t step back, just sucked in a breath as she left just a few inches between them.

“There’s some bubble bath in that cabinet.” He let out the breath with an embarrassed laugh and stepped back, allowing Rachel to find the bottle she’d seen earlier.

Going back to the tub she poured a good size in, smiling at the sweet, child-like scent. She put her hand in the water, testing it for temperature before she swirled her hand, mixing the soap to a small foam layer.

Turning off the water, Rachel motioned for Beth, and Mr. Schue responded, giving her the girl before kneeling by her again. He was cautious to leave a good foot between them, but he smiled at her as she set Beth down in the water.

Rachel waited for the tantrum to come, but it never did. Instead she began to splash in the water, happily.

“Did you see any bath toys?” She shook her head but rose, searching the bathroom until she found a small bin containing foam shapes, shampoo, and a duck washcloth.

Rachel set it on the toilet and rejoined the two, putting a handful of the foam shapes in the water. Beth immediately began playing with them, sticking them to the wall and floating them around. Both adults laughed quickly before they looked at each other.

Neither wanted to be the one to leave, not after they’d come to the tentative understanding about shared responsibility. So instead they both sat, watching Beth, keeping her safe.

After a moment Mr. Schue reached a hand into the tub, cupping his palm and starting to wet Beth’s hair, careful not to get water in her eyes. “Hand me the shampoo?” She did, before going back for the duck washcloth. As he began to wash Beth’s hair, Rachel dipped the cloth into the tub and began to clean Beth’s arms and stomach.

Both worked quietly for a while, Beth’s incomprehensible jabber the only noise, as they cleaned the cheese and apple from her hands and face. As Rachel shifted her legs beneath her she leaned forward and was met with a face full of water as Beth splashed the surface.

Mr. Schue’s laughter was loud and infectious, and as soapy tracks slid down her cheeks and clumped in her hair, she joined him. “Here,” he chuckled, and pulled a towel off of the rack on the wall behind him. He held the towel up to her cheek, wiping gently to remove the soap.

Her hand flew up, still smiling, as she covered his hand with hers. Their smiles hesitated, as they stared at each other, his hand warm under hers. Beth splashed again and he pulled his hand back, the moment over as the little girl began to giggle.

They watched Beth play, smiling and laughing and saying something to her questioning noises every once in a while. When Beth started to rub at her eyes with the back of her fists, Rachel spoke again, her voice sweet. “Is it getting to be bedtime, sweetie? You look so sleepy.”

Mr. Schue stood and went to the shelf, pulling down a big, fluffy towel and kneeled back down. Rachel looked over at him and bit her lip. “How are we going to do this, exactly?”

“How about you lift, I’ll take her?” Rachel nodded and they did just that, ending with a clean Beth in his arms. He held her a moment while she drained the tub, picking up the foam shapes and putting them back in the bin.

After, they both stood up and she followed him into Beth’s room. He set her on the changing table to finish gently drying her feet and legs, and she pulled another set of pajamas from the drawer.

It was peacefully silent as they shifted around each other to get her ready for bed. Rachel tried to avoid touching him, still feeling a lingering something from the feel of his hand under hers.

When she had a fresh diaper, clean green frog pajamas and a sleepy smile, Mr. Schue picked Beth back up.

Though her eyes were heavy she was talking, something about a “story,” so Rachel went to the bookshelf to get something for her. She found an old Dr. Suess book, one of her favorites, and brought it over to them. Mr. Schue looked at her, his eyes unreadable as she titled her head toward the door. “Let’s go read, OK, Beth?”

When Mr. Schue held her out she ignored him, just headed into Shelby’s room. He followed her to the bed, and she sat down before putting out her arms for Beth.

He hesitated a moment before kissing her forehead and setting her down on Rachel’s lap, so when he turned to go, she held out the book to him. “She likes it when you read.”

The statement was silly—they’d read to Beth only twice and Rachel had no idea what, exactly, Beth wanted. But Rachel knew she wanted him to stay, that she felt a fluttering when they were domestic and alone, but she was growing to love that flutter, that anticipation. She had yet to figure out what, exactly, she was anticipating, but she knew she wanted to be near him when she figured it out.

It must not matter, she realized, because he was smiling boyishly and walking to the other side of the bed. His side of the bed, she remembered.

He sat up against the headboard, next to her, leaving just enough room between them for Beth to sit between them as she had earlier in the day. They all settled in, and when Beth was snuggled between them Rachel handed the book to Mr. Schuester. He took it, opening it to the first page, and Beth leaned her head against his arm.

It was like it had been earlier that day on the couch, but it also felt more relaxed, more natural. It felt nice.

Mr. Schuester started to read aloud and Rachel brought her legs up, leaning her elbow on her knee as she propped her head on her hand. Her hand went to Beth’s hair and stroked absentmindedly as she watched Mr. Schue.

He was focused on the book, on the words, so Rachel took the opportunity to really look at him. She’d always known he was attractive—there wasn’t a girl, hell, a  _person_  at McKinley who couldn’t see that. But she’d only ever been able to see him in glee, where he was always angry, or sad, or so excited about something she could only focus on how  _geeky_  he looked. And while she’d always found those looks adorable (or sometimes when he was yelling, a little hot), he’d never looked so  _handsome_  before.

There was something so appealing in the soft, long lashes that brushed his upper cheeks, in the ever-so-slightly upturned corners of his mouth. From the side his chin looked bigger than ever, but she smiled. It was cute, she thought, the “butt chin” he’d announced his dislike of to the club. She wondered what he’d do if she were to reach over and trace the dimple there with her thumb.

His nose was big—bigger than she ever realized, with a large bump in the middle. Her hand went to her own nose, the one she’d wanted to change just a few months ago. She thought about how against it he had been, how happy her declaration of her cancelled appointment had made him.

Mr. Schue raised his voice for theatrical effect and Rachel felt Beth jump under her hand. They both settled, and Rachel’s eyes fell to his hands as he turned the page.

He had such nice hands, she mused, looking at his long fingers and wide palm. She blushed, thinking, about how his hand had felt under hers, how she’d wished the towel hadn’t separated them from her cheek.

The book closed with a small creak as the crease of the spine was bent. Rachel quickly looked down at Beth, hoping Mr. Schuester had not caught her glances. The little girl’s eyes were even heavier than in the bath, but she was not asleep yet. Rachel’s throat felt dry as she looked up to meet Mr. Schue’s eyes. “You should sing to her, tonight.”

It was strange—the more control she relinquished to him, the more she wanted to give him.  _It’s his smile_ , she thought, but she wasn’t sure that was all of it. She always feared that if she let someone else do what was her job, they’d realize she wasn’t the only one that could do it, and, because she wasn’t exactly the most low-maintenance person to be around, she’d be out. It was her fear with Sunshine, she knew; that she’d be the powerhouse voice she was, the “dwarf” of the group that became their leader.

The smile she’d been given in return for her suggestion was still on his face, and she knew that he wasn’t going to take Beth from her. If anything, it was the other way around, and she was grateful he trusted her enough to share his almost-daughter.

He picked up one of Beth’s small feet in his hand and played with her as he started to sing. “ _Sometimes I get a feeling, deep in my soul. Sometimes I get a feeling, I just can’t control._ ” Rachel smiled at his choice, instantly remembering the day Beth was named, in the choir room. She hoped that Shelby listened to classic rock, would keep the connection for Beth.

He was looking at the little girl, her head now tipped back against Rachel’s arm to watch the man serenading her as she drifted off. Reaching for one of her hands, Rachel smiled at the delicate fingers in her grip. Beth squeezed back, just a little, and Rachel turned to face Mr. Schue more.

“ _Sometimes I get a feeling, deep in my heart. It’s such a feeling that I know we’ll never part._ ” She wished the words were true, for his sake. There was something more to his expression now, not just the contentment she’d so blatantly thrown out the night before. Now it seemed as though he held a sense of place, a look of rightness when you find the thing you are meant to do.

Of course, Rachel’d found that rightness the first time she’d sung “People” for a sparse but impressed 3rd grade talent show crowd, had it reiterated every time she took the stage since. With the way Mr. Schuester watched the gleeks, she’d always assumed his “rightness” had come from the same sense of performance, that he viewed them with a mixture of pride and awe, but also jealousy and regret.

 _“She brings me love, I know it’s all that I need. Sometimes I get a feeling, deep in my bones. Sometimes I get a feeling, wanna leave me alone.”_  Now, now she wondered if that rightness for him was this, family. Rachel thought back on the change in his personality in the short time she’d known him. How when he’d first taken over glee it she’d been annoyed at his refusal to see her as the star she was, but also grateful, so grateful to finally have a director that understood them, wanted them to succeed where he hadn’t been able to.

She thought about him now, how he was still invested in the club, but how it felt different. His hopes for them now seemed more driven by desperation, as if he had been pushing them all year to the trophy. As if winning that trophy would redeem him a little, make up for everything that he was unhappy with. It didn’t make sense to her, hadn’t all year, not when she thought about the man that had taken over for Mr. Ryerson.

 _“ Sometimes I get a feeling deep inside, It’s such a feeling, my love I can’t hide. She brings me love, I know it’s all that I need. Love, I know that it’s all that I need.”_ He was humming now, filling in a guitar solo and he looked up at her. She knew she was watching him with narrowed, inquisitive eyes, but he met the intensity, didn’t look down. Rachel wondered if he knew what he was looking for either. If he knew that he’d just sung what she’d finally figured out.

Finally he trailed off, letting the tune fall softly around them as he reached for the now sleeping girl. Beth shifted into his arms but didn’t wake, and Rachel followed him as he tucked her into her crib. Once he was finished she took over, leaning over the side to place a kiss on Beth’s forehead before tucking her hair behind her ear and latching the side bar, keeping Beth secure in the bed.

Both stood by the crib for a moment, just watching, until Rachel spoke. “I love that song. It’s been quite a while since we’ve done a classic rock number in glee.”

He smiled at her side and slid his hands into his pockets, turning to face her. “Ms. Holiday made it clear that everyone wanted to do songs that were more current.”

“I’ve always liked what you’ve assigned.” She crossed her arms over her waist and turned to face him, matching his smile. He set one of his hands on her shoulder, squeezing slightly before turning to walk out of the room. Turning the light off and the monitor on, he ushered her through the doorway and they walked back into the kitchen.

“Besides,” she continued, “classic rock is much better for telling a story than the current radio hits.” She thought of his ballad assignment and blushed, thinking about the story he’d told  _her_.

“You just got finished with Nationals, Rachel. Take a break,” she looked up but his smile told her he was just teasing so she smiled back and started to pick up the cartons of food and put them away. His cell phone rang and he excused himself, walking down the hall into Shelby’s room.

Panic gripped her as he left the room and a thousand possible reasons for a phone call crossed her mind. She finished picking up as she thought about the hospital, Shelby, Finn and the rest of the club, Ms. Pillsbury. As she slid the leftovers onto the top shelf of the refrigerator, Mr. Schue came back into the room.

She shut the door and looked at him, waiting. “Was that the hospital? Is—“

He shook his head as he cut her off. “It was just Em—Ms. Pillsbury. She’s getting gas and needed directions to the hotel.”

Rachel thought about the germophobic counselor trying to use a gas pump and furrowed her brows. “That was fast.”

Mr. Schue shook his head and leaned against the back of the couch. “She’s still a few hours away, but she wanted directions since she was stopped.”

Rachel nodded and turned, grabbing a sponge from the sink and wetting it. As she started to wipe down the counter, Mr. Schue cleared his throat. “How are you doing?” His question surprised her and she looked up, the sponge cooling under her hand.

“I’m fine.” He looked skeptical, and suddenly a small flame of anger licked at her chest. He  _had_  heard her talking to Beth that morning. Instead of saying anything more she continued to wipe the counter down. She thought, for a split-second that he was going to push her. Instead he just walked to the sink and started to wash the dishes from dinner.

Rachel finished the counter and moved to the high chair, cleaning the tray and removing all traces of applesauce. The radio was still playing, they’d forgotten to turn it off, and Rachel started to hum along. Finished with her task, she set the sponge in the side of the sink he wasn’t using, and as she neared him she caught that he was making noise, was humming, too.

Remembering the music that had been on earlier, Rachel turned the radio off as Mr. Schue finished the last dish and turned on the TV. She flipped the channels as she sat in her corner of the long couch, feeling a small sense of frustration when nothing was on. “Why can cable programmers not appreciate the fact that there are  _hundreds_ of musicals for them to play on television?”

He laughed at her as he took his own seat, but quieted as the phone started to ring. Rachel looked to Mr. Schue and asked, “Should I answer it?” She didn’t exactly want to answer someone else’s phone, especially a woman she knew as little as she did her mother, but the curiosity of who was calling was tugging at her.

He hesitated and she thought he might feel the same way. “If it’s anyone who would be able to care for Beth they’ll leave a message.” His tone was defensive and guarded, and she wondered why, exactly, who he was being defensive for. She thought back to how happy he’d been with the toddler and realized that it was probably for himself.

Rachel nodded and waited, grateful the ring was very low, and wouldn’t disturb the baby sleeping down the hall. Finally the noise stopped, and the beep of the machine kicked in. “ _Shelby—listen. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have said what I did, I didn’t mean it. You know I love you and Beth, I was just frustrated, with everything, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I shouldn’t have yelled. Please, call me back. I—I miss you, both of you. Please.”_

The machine clicked off, the red light now flashing as Rachel felt her mouth open, her body leaning forward. She couldn’t look at Mr. Schue, knew she’d see the same thing.

“Was that…?”

She gulped. “Jesse.”


	6. Chapter 6

Silence filled the room as both sat on the couch, staring at the answering machine. A thousand thoughts were coursing through Rachel’s head, images of her mother, her ex-boyfriend, things both had said to her, knowing the whole time that there was something going on (or growing, at least) between them.

Finally, Rachel sank back into the couch, her back pressed against the arm as she pulled her legs to her chest and just breathed. She was looking down, at a spot on the cushion, but she could tell Mr. Schue was uncomfortable, shifting in his spot across from her.

“Rachel? Are—“  She knew what he was asking, tuned him out as she tried to figure it out herself. Her  _mother_  and her  _ex-boyfriend_. Had they been dating  _then?_  Had he dated Rachel to help Shelby, to help break McKinley? Had her  _mother_  set her up, been the one behind all of Jesse’s lies? She breathed out, the thoughts all seeming so  _sick_.

Her eyes felt so incredibly dry, and she couldn’t understand it, not when she felt so much hurt, so much betrayal. Jesse’s lies had hurt, had taught her an invaluable lesson about guys, about trust. But _Shelby_ …

Shelby was her  _mom_. Mother, whatever. Rachel was a part of her, and Shelby’s  _connection_  with Jesse wasn’t new. It couldn’t be, not new enough for her to have no idea what Jesse was doing to Rachel, to her heart.

A hand was shaking her, was coming from a voice calling her name. She managed to look up, over her knees and see that Mr. Schue was sitting right in front of her, his hands on her arms, his eyes imploring her to answer him.

“God, Rach, you look like you’re gonna be sick.” He pressed one of his hands to her cheek, his thumb brushing the cheekbone. It was his flesh on hers, what she’d wanted so badly, had wished for not more than an hour ago. And yet she couldn’t even  _feel_ him, not like she knew she’d be able to otherwise, her skin thick and her nerve endings numb. It didn’t make sense, not when she could hear the blood rushing in her ears, not when she could feel the heat staining her face.

He ran a hand down her arm and she opened her mouth, let out a big breath as she exhaled. She remembered Quinn’s panic attack just a day or so ago, how she’d been unable to understand how she could get that _physically_ upset.

“Rachel? You’re seriously worrying me, OK? What—“

“I mean absolutely nothing to her.” She was staring down, his hands still on her arms as she shook her head. Her voice was deceptively even and flat.

“What? That’s not true, she’s—“

“No.” She looked up at him, cutting off the thin platitude he was about to offer. “She really doesn’t. My entire life I’ve thought about her, dreamed about her. What she was like, what she looked like. Where she was from, how she met my dads, why she agreed to be a surrogate, why she needed the money.

“How she could give me away.” His face was open, soaking in her words as she barreled on. “And then I met her, and she told me how  _amazing_  I was, how she’d seen me at Sectionals that first year and how she’d thought my voice was  _extraordinary_.” Rachel had been looking at him, but she locked onto his eyes harder, her chest heaving with all of it as she forced a laugh at the word her mother had said to her face.

“She was  _proud_ of me. She sang with me, and talked to me and hugged me. She held onto me like I was important, and that it was killing her, just a little, to let me go again.”

It was coming out, now, everything she’d told no one, not even the journal she kept in her nightstand drawer for those unexpected moments of brilliance she often had. Her eyes fluttered as she looked down at her hands, gripping onto each other as she pulled her legs so close she feared for her next breath.

“When I asked her to make me a dress, told her I needed a  _mom_ , she just smiled and led me backstage, laughed with me as we sewed on the sequins and she pinned up my hair with Vocal Adrenaline’s hair pins.” Her voice was rising, just a little.

“I told her I drank water when I was sad, and she gave me a glass with a gold star, told me to use it and think of her.”

She looked up at him again, her lips pressed tight against each other as she noticed his big eyes, his wrinkled brow, and the feel of his thumbs stroking her upper arms. She continued.

“She was nice to me. She made me feel loved and wanted, and like she wished things were different and that she could get to know me. But she had Vocal Adrenaline and aspirations and no time for a family.”

Her fingers dug into her knees until her skin turned white. “I went to visit her when everyone took Quinn to the hospital. I asked her to stay, to teach at McKinley with you. I asked her to stay in my life and be my mom. She said no.”

His eyes were downcast and she wondered if she hurt his feelings when she asked Shelby to teach with him. “She told me she wanted a family, that she wanted a daughter, so I offered her one. I offered to be her daughter.”

She was shaking her head, trying to pull herself back, trying to stop herself from going too far, from telling him everything. But it felt  _good_ , fantastic, even, to let someone else know how her own mother had treated her. The sympathy on Mr. Schue’s face was everything she wanted. It was understanding and absolution.

“Shelby told me no. She wanted a family, a daughter, but specifically not me. And I told her about Beth, I told her that Quinn had a baby girl and was putting her up for adoption. Shelby wanted a daughter, and like a good one I gave her what she asked for.”

It was so screwed up, she realized, as she said it all out loud. But Mr. Schuester wasn’t cutting her off, was just holding onto her, brushing her skin with his thumb and watching her with his soft eyes. “I spent my entire life dreaming about my mother;  if I’d like her, what I’d think of her. Dreaming of how she’d realize her mistake, how she’d finally  _love_  me enough not to leave me.”

Her eyes were stinging but dry, and she felt a tension coiled within her that told her it was not tears she was about to explode with. “I never once considered that she would decide she’d made the right choice. That she wouldn’t love me.”

Mr. Schue was running his hands down her arms, pulling her attention to him but she just shook her head, standing, and effectively cutting off anything he was going to say, any reassurances his teacher training would have him spew.

“But for her to actively  _hate_  me? For her to want to hurt me, to work at it?” She narrowed her eyes at him, sitting on the couch.

“Jesse smashed an egg on my face. His twenty-five teammates threw as many at me in the middle of the parking lot. They plotted, specifically, to hurt me in the worst way, and they succeeded. They used my beliefs against me, my veganism as a weapon carefully targeted to do the most damage.”

He was looking more and more concerned, and she realized she was pacing a little, was wrapping her arms around her waist. Her words were no longer for him, no longer for sympathy. Now they were a release for all of the anger, the hurt, the rejection she’d felt, pouring out of her.

“It had been a plan, all along, to crush me, and my  _mother_  was in on it.”

As she turned a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. “Rachel, what Jesse did was awful, but Shelby might not even know, let alone have allowed it. I doubt they were,” he struggled, “romantically involved back then.”

She sunk into the seat next to him and didn’t pull her arm back, waited, instead, until he set her wrist back down on her lap gently. “How often do you hear us say extremely personal things in the choir room? Think about everything you know about us. We’re a family, remember? If we did anything to any other team, you would know about it.”

He wanted to respond, to say something as he opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Even if she hadn’t, by some chance, known what Jesse was doing to me, she must know, now. It’s absolutely impossible that she doesn’t, not after everything that’s happened.” She swallowed, hard. “And she still could date him, after he hurt her daughter like that.”

The anger was dissipating and the raw hurt was breaking the surface. It was silent for a moment, the infomercial Rachel had landed on muted. Her eyes were heavy and downcast, her hands in her lap between her knees. “I never thought I’d miss getting slushied.” She gulped before adding, “A slushie only stains your clothes.”

Her vision was blurring and before the first tear fell she realized how badly she did not want to cry, not after all of that, not in front of him. His fingers grazed her cheek and he pushed her hair back, tucked it behind her ear.

She felt the first hot tear hit her arm. “I—Rach, please don’t,” and she couldn’t stop, she broke.

His arms enveloped her and she stiffened, remembering everything she’d felt over the past few days. But his arms were so warm, and he felt so strong. She relaxed her shoulders, pulling her legs underneath her on the couch as she threw her arm across his neck to hold on.

As he held her he stroked her back, her hair, until she felt him shake his head. Blushing, she pulled back, apology at the ready.

Barely a sound left her lips before he stroked her hair and cupped the back of her head, shaking again. “No, I told her—God damn it, I told her not to do this to you.” She was confused but his eyes looked dark, dangerous and fiery.

Tentatively she rested her hand on his upper chest, waiting for him to look at her again. “What?” Her throat was dry from thirst and sadness and the word was rough.

Mr. Schue gulped but stroked her hair again, and she wondered if he saw her as a child, then. If she’d undone the mature, domestic image she imagined she’d been cultivating. “I told her, back during the Gaga assignment, not to start something with you, not unless she was committed.”

His face dropped and the fire died in his eyes, replaced by wide, regretful irises. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I’m so sorry, I thought she was.”

She tilted her head, wondering why she’d never heard about this. Her eyes were red, she knew, but she watched him anyway, and pressed against his chest, just a little. “You, you what?”

She wasn’t asking for confirmation, just another minute to process his words. Her eyes flicked from his to his mouth rapidly as she tried to form a proper response. “She never mentioned you were talking about me. How did you meet her in the first place?”

His eyes slid from her and his hand fell from her hair. She missed the heat immediately and she pressed her palm against his chest harder, flexed her fingers gently and leaned forward a little.

“I—when I, I went to talk to her, back when you first met Jesse.” He was stammering, struggling to explain and she held her breath as he continued. “I asked her point-blank if Jesse was a spy.” She exhaled with the information overload as more images flashed rapidly behind her eyes of the man in front of her, concerned, talking to her mother. She wondered how she’d never heard about any of this.

“You never told me that,” she ducked her head, embarrassed. Of course he’d never told her that, it wasn’t as if they regularly talked about anything other than song selection. The last thought made the hurt in her chest pulse with a new pressure.

Her fingers were flexing on his shirt again, harder this time, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something stupid. Her lashes brushed her cheeks as she blinked slowly, realizing how close they were, how she could feel his arm between them, brushing against the bare skin of her knee.

His eyes were glinting in the dim light of the nearby lamp. His mouth was parted slightly, and she could feel his chest move with every breath he took.

She very suddenly wanted to kiss him.

“I’m so sorry, Rachel.” She closed her eyes at his apology, shook her head slightly and gave him a small, fake smile. She shrugged, the exhaustion from the anger and the tears permeating the confused haze of her thoughts.

She knew that she could tell him it wasn’t his fault, he had nothing to do with it. She could also tell him she was grateful, surprised that he had tried to help her at all. She no longer got the feeling that he was out to ruin her career, her life, but until now she’d also never had any real impression that he cared.

Looking him in the eye, she tilted her nose down, pressed her palm against his chest more. “Thank you,” and she hoped he was getting her message, that she was thanking him for all of it.

He just kept his eyes trained on her, nodding slightly as she leaned forward, leaned into him, just a little. When he flexed his forearm she could feel it, could tell there were muscles shifting beneath the thin skin against her leg.

She brought her other arm up to the shoulder near her, slid her curled fingers against the sleeve of his shirt until she was cupping the rounded bone. Her legs were tingling, protesting their bent status, but she just shifted, watching his face as she gulped.

“Do you still have feelings for,” her breath caught, “Jesse?”

The breath in her chest eased and she considered his question. After a beat she shifted back, letting her hands fall from his body as the moment was over. Rachel slid her legs out from under her, letting them fall over the edge of the couch.

Mr. Schue’s leg twitched as hers pressed against it, but he didn’t pull away. With a small sigh, Rachel put her hands in her lap, her fingers interlocking loosely. “Of course I do.” He didn’t move, but she could see his jaw twitch, and it made her wonder.

“Jesse was an important milestone relationship. He was handsome and charismatic, and I was in love with him.” She pulled her hands apart so she could play with the hem of her dress.

“In fact, he was everything I dreamed of—the young passionate male lead falling for the overlooked, stubborn young ingénue. That he would sweep me off my feet with grand declarations of love, and sing about our once-in-a-lifetime romance.”

Her cheeks felt heated, just a little at how detailed she was being, and she looked up at him through her lashes. Hesitant, she decided to speak a truth she’d yet to verbalize. “But he betrayed me, suddenly and without any sense of plot twist—no outside influence to appease temporarily as he searched tirelessly for a way for us to be together.” She shrugged one shoulder, shaking her head. “Just hurt and betrayal.”

His eyes slid to his lap and he clasped his hands, mirroring her earlier stance. He sucked in his lips uncomfortably and her shoulders dropped. Rachel wasn’t certain if it was boredom or irritation he felt, but both hurt, and only served to add guilt to the emotional cocktail she was experiencing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said so much.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I always say too much.”

Mr. Schue looked up, quickly, and rested his hand on hers in her lap. “No, Rachel. I just—I get it. The betrayal, the lingering feelings. It’s confusing.”

She was tentative when she looked at him again, her instincts kicking in at potential for ridicule. “You do?”

He smiled, dryly, and squeezed her hand. “My wife lied to me for months, manipulated me.” His smile dropped and he pulled his hand back. “But she was my wife. My first and,” he twitched slightly as he continued, “ my only relationship.”

Rachel felt honored that he trusted her like this, that he was sharing so much. “It was hard, for a long time, because I loved her and hated her and I had to keep stopping myself from calling her, from telling her she could come home.” Rachel watched his jaw clench.

“I had to stop myself from telling her we could make it work. Because we couldn’t, not after everything that happened.”

“But you love her, still?”

His eyes were soft as he met hers, nodding his head. “I always will, I think. It’s just now, maybe, it’s not her, but the memory of her. Of what we used to be for each other.”

“I know what you mean. That’s how I think I’ll always feel about Jesse. About Finn, too.” She gave him a tight smile, but narrowed her eyes. She didn’t want to press him too far, ask for too much, but he wasn’t pulling away, not yet. “You said that your wife was your only relationship, but I thought that you and Ms. Pillsbury—“

She wasn’t sure where she was going to end that question, so she was grateful when he shifted, cutting her off. “We never actually dated, not really. I have feelings for her, but there are some things she needs to work out before we try for a relationship again.”

Lacking any other response Rachel smiled, and, after a moment’s hesitation, set her hand on his. He’d touched her several times now, but she’d only taken his hand to pull him up the day before. This was different, the stillness of the air as she curled her fingers over the side of his palm.

She felt her chest get tighter as she waited for him to push her away, and when his hand twitched she knew it was over. Except he didn’t pull back, just set his other hand on hers and patted, gently. “Thank you, Mr. Schue. For talking with me.”

He looked down at his hands and furrowed his brow, before looking back up to her and smiling. “Anytime, Rach. I’ll always be here for you, for everyone in glee.” She didn’t want to assume too much, but the last part sounded rushed, like he was trying to cover up where he singled her out, made her special.

He looked back down at their hands, his knuckles dragging lazily along where their hands met. “Was, was there something else, Mr. Schue?” There was, she knew, but not how to get him to say it. So she hoped, prayed he would say it, whatever  _it_ was.

“Maybe, just for our stay here, it would be alright if you called me Will.” Her mouth dropped a little as she was stunned, her hand twitching back suddenly in his. He let her go and she was immediately regretful of her action. “Just, if you wanted to. It was a bad suggestion, I didn’t mean to make you uncom—“

“No!” She blushed, her volume shocking herself as he looked at her, stunned, too. “I mean, no, I’d like that. I was just surprised, is all. I didn’t think you’d trust me that much after I’d practically stalked you last year.”

 _Stupid, stupid mouth!_  She had been shocked by his allowance, the permission to call him by his first name, such an intimate title, considering. But she wished she hadn’t rambled, hadn’t brought up such an uncomfortable moment for both of them.

But his smile was gentle, unafraid, and she had the decency to duck her head a little in shame. “Well, as flattering as that week was, I think you’ve come to your senses.” His words were self-deprecating and she wanted to tell him how that was true and false at the same time—how she wasn’t mooning over him but that she still felt something for him—but she’d spilled enough of her soul for one night.

He patted her knee and she took it as the sign that there would be no more discussion. She was grateful but disappointed all at once, not wanting to part but needing some time to figure everything out, process all of the last half hour.

Rachel stood, straightening the skirt of her dress as she waited for him to stand up, too. When he did it was awkward, both just looking at each other for a solid thirty seconds.  _I want to kiss him_ , floated through her mind again and she had to press her tongue hard against the roof of her mouth to stop herself.

“Do, did you want to take the first turn to brush your teeth?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine.” He shifted a moment before brushing past her, and she inhaled the smell of him, coming through despite the products he’d had to use that morning. When she heard the door click to signal the closed bathroom she sighed, thought about her duffle bag in the bedroom. Rachel was grateful to have her own clothes, her own toothbrush, her own body wash.

As she headed down the hall the bathroom door opened and he stepped out, his cheeks a little red. “’Forgot my toothbrush,” he mumbled, and she couldn’t help but find it adorable as she stepped into Shelby’s room and closed the door.

Alone, finally, she closed her eyes and leaned against the door, glancing at her duffle bag by the wall. Her head was swimming, thoughts and feelings she’d long since ignored resurfacing with vigor. It was so much, too much right now, and she went about getting ready for bed. Unzipping the bag she pulled out her pajama shorts and t-shirt, before looking longingly at the nightgown still laid out on the end of the bed.  _She’d already worn it_ , she reasoned, remembering how sexy she’d felt, how mature in the short silky gown. She wanted to slip it over her head, feel like that again, wear it out to say goodnight and see what Mr. Schuester had to say.  _Will_ , she reminded herself. See what Will had to say.

But it also felt wrong, felt like someone else’s skin she’d be trying to show after she’d bared so much of herself so recently. With a sad smile she scooped the chemise up and dropped it into the empty hamper by the wall.

Once clad in her boring cotton shorts and old  _Peter Pan_  t-shirt from one of her old performances (in which she played the title character, obviously), she pulled her hair free and let it fall, curling, against her shoulders.

Her toothbrush and paste were in her bag, too, and after digging them out she opened the door, only to find the bathroom still occupied. To kill time, Rachel went in to check on Beth, hoping her brief outburst hadn’t woken her. With a smile she realized it hadn’t, and she stroked a hand over the hair of the beautiful sleeping baby girl.

A moment later she heard the click of the door and, with a kiss to Beth’s fingers, she left the nursery to come face to face with Mr. Sch— _Will_. She thought for a moment his hand would steady her, like before, but this time he stayed in his own bubble. “The bathroom’s free.”

Of course it was, it was directly behind him and they were the only two in the apartment. “Oh. OK, thanks.” He turned to head into the living room, but she stopped him with her hand on his wrist. Once he turned he looked down at where they were joined and she dropped him. She wasn’t sure why she’d stopped him, what she wanted to say, so she just licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Goodnight, Will.”

A smile overcame his face and she met it, relieved and intrigued by the taste of his name on her tongue. “Goodnight, Rach.”

She turned, went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. As she combed her hair (with her own brush) she hummed, just a little, and ever so quietly. After using the toilet and washing her hands she went back into Shelby’s room, and crawled into bed. Her head was still swimming with everything that had happened in the past hour, and the soft pillow beneath her was a welcome respite.

Finding out about Jesse and Shelby had felt  _awful_  on so many levels. Jesse had broken her heart, undeniably, and even though she still cared for him, had explained that to Mr. Sch— _Will_ , just hearing his voice had been unexpectedly painful.

On top of all of it, her feelings about Shelby, jumbled as they were, had come pouring out of her, in an embarrassing display of anger and tears. It was  _inexcusable_ , she knew, for Shelby to date Jesse after everything that had happened.

But, even though she knew that she had every right to be furious with Shelby…she still couldn’t be.  _That_  was the most frustrating thing, she thought, that she was allowed to be angry, and she just couldn’t commit to it.

Rachel thought about how Will had held her, as these contradictions had taken root in her brain, how he’d pulled her to him, listened, and shared in return. She thought that he could tell, then, what it had been that she’d needed, and she was grateful.

His hands, his arms, his words had soothed her, and even though it didn’t make up for all of the rehashed issues, it helped. A lot.

He’d told her to call him Will, to be more than student and teacher, for just a while. A thought drifted by, that Shelby and Jesse had become more than that, too, but she turned on her side and pulled the blanket up.

By the time her eyes started to close it was still early, but, both physically and mentally exhausted, sleep found her quickly.

()()()

Cries woke Rachel the next morning as the alarm clock beside her read 8:26. With a stretch she rose and padded down the hall, surprised that Beth slept through the night, but also at her own sound sleep.

When she reached the doorway she could see Beth standing, gripping the edge of her crib to hold herself up as she wailed. Rachel smiled sleepily, a small yawn escaping her as she picked Beth up. Cooing softly she brushed Beth’s hair out of her face and swayed her a little.

As she was checking Beth’s diaper, Mr. Schuester ( _Will_ , she reminded herself) appeared in the doorway, a spatula in hand. “Sorry, it took me a while to hear her.”

“I should’ve gotten up hours ago, anyway.” Rachel rubbed at Beth’s back and tilted her head to the side. “Why do you have a spatula?”

Will looked down, holding up the tool and chuckling softly. With squinted eyes and a hopeful look he asked, “How do pancakes sound? I used soy milk.”

Rachel smiled big and his shoulders relaxed. “That sounds absolutely delicious.” He turned, and she figured he was going to flip their food. Returning to Beth she changed her and the little girl’s cries subsided.

As Rachel pulled Beth’s pajamas back on she caught a whiff of the food from the kitchen and sighed. “I bet you love pancakes, right, Beth?” The toddler played with her foot on the changing table and Rachel ruffled her hair before putting her on her hip and walking out of the room.

The smell of syrup was sweet and inviting as she stepped down the hallway, but she got suddenly nervous as she wondered how she looked. She set Beth in her high chair, glad that Will didn’t turn around as she hurried into the bathroom to check.

With a relieved sigh she found only a few errant strands that were distracting, and she smoothed them down quickly before washing her hands and brushing her teeth quickly. Satisfied she was mostly presentable, she walked back into the kitchen.

“It smells delicious, Will.” She bit her lip at the sound of his name, lingering in the early morning air. When he looked over his shoulder, though, he was smiling. “How long have you been awake?”

He shrugged and flipped a (nearly) perfect round in the frying pan. It was strange, this knowledge that he was a good cook. “Emma called me at eight to let me know they were leaving soon, that everything was fine and the bus was all set to pick them up.”

As he spoke Rachel looked at the counter and noticed cut up slices of banana, strawberries and blueberries that had been in the crisper. Beth was squirming in her high chair, so Rachel went to the sink and grabbed her sippy cup, rinsing it out and filling it up with juice before giving it to the little girl.

Rachel went back to the sink, reaching over it to pull down a few plates that Will must have put away earlier that morning. He looked over and smiled at her as she did, and when his eyes dropped down he cleared his throat and looked back at the pan, setting the finished pancakes on a plate next to him. Rachel looked down where he was and registered the cool apartment air that hit her exposed stomach, her _Peter Pan_ shirt riding up to her belly button.

It felt a little awkward for a moment as Rachel set their plates on the counter by the stools and held Beth’s in her hand. With two cakes on the spatula he turned to her, and with a shifty glance he slid them onto the colorful surface. “I pulled the syrup out, it’s on the counter by the refrigerator.”

Rachel ducked her head and walked around him to the other side of the kitchen. Realizing how small the space in the kitchen was she squirted a very small amount of syrup onto the pancakes before turning back to him. As she headed back to the side of the kitchen with the fruit he stepped back, just a little, and she almost ran into them. They both murmured apologies and he let her pass.

Rachel put a few banana slices and blueberries on Beth’s plate, not sure of how picky the toddler was, but knowing she’d loved the applesauce they’d given her. After grabbing one of the thick, child forks, Rachel navigated around Will and in front of the high chair.

“Look at this, Beth. Will made you some delicious pancakes that I’ll cut up for you.” Beth was looking up at her curiously, trying to see what was on the plate in her hands. Rachel set the plate on the high chair table and used the edge of the fork to make smaller, bite-sized pieces of the fluffy food. As she did she realized the syrup had been more than she’d thought, and was oozing out of the treat, just a little. Knowing the mess Beth would make she winced, but was grateful she had not yet dressed the child.

Beth looked at her, not taking the fork she offered, but picking up one of the pieces with her fingers. Rachel was transfixed as she put the square in her mouth and started to chew it, slowly. When she turned to look at Will she was beaming, her teeth bared and her lips wide. “She’s eating! It was your food of course, but she’s eating, even though it wasn’t you feeding her!”

He laughed, deep and low and she was grateful. She hadn’t meant to take something away from him but she felt so good, was so excited. Will didn’t seem upset, though, just nodded and smiled, before coming to stand next to her. “That’s great, Rach.” His hands were on his hips, leaning against the counter, and she saw two plates ready on the table.

Rachel blushed at her outburst and sat down, reaching for the fruit and putting some on her plate. “This looks great, M—Will, thank you.” She looked at him but he was putting syrup on his pancakes, not looking at her. From the side it almost looked like he felt guilty. She wondered what for, but just bit into the fluffy rounds on her plate. “Hmm,” she was honestly surprised that he’d made good food this morning, despite the high quality stir-fry they’d had earlier in the week.  _It wasn’t a fluke_ , she thought, that he was actually a very good cook.

They ate in silence, both watching Beth try to handle her food. She was getting it into her mouth, and that was the important part, but Rachel knew she’d have to wash the little girl’s hands and face very soon. His phone buzzed on the counter and he answered it. Rachel tried not to listen in, but lacking any other stimulation she couldn’t help it. Still, when he hung up she asked, “Was that the hospital? Is Shelby better?”

He shook his head and set the phone back down. “That was Emma, again. She’s on her way over here in her car. She’s going to leave it with us, and then she’ll ride the bus back with the team.” Rachel nodded and they both finished eating. Rachel felt strange about that, about Ms. Pillsbury coming over here, into Shelby’s home. It felt almost like an invasion of the domesticity, of the temporary home they’d all cultivated.

The thought of the home they’d created gave her pause, and she wondered if Jesse was a part of that home, normally, for Beth. He had sounded quite familial with them on the phone, and Rachel’s brows furrowed. “Do you think I should call Jesse? About Shelby?”  _And Beth_ , was the rest of her question, but she let it go.

Will looked over at her around his fork, and she watched him swallow it down with a shake of her head. “I don’t know, Rachel. They’ve obviously had a fight, and we don’t know what things were like before that, you know? Jesse might not be prepared to take care of a child.”

She nodded, not entirely convinced. Though, she had to admit that calling Jesse was a prospect she didn’t relish, and his input soothed her, a little. He was right about their relationship—Rachel had no idea how close they  _actually_  were, though his message implied intimacy.

But as far as Beth? Will and she weren’t exactly prepared for it, either, but that hadn’t stopped them from shouldering the responsibility. However, her resolve to take care of her sister had only strengthened, despite Rachel’s confused feelings about their mother, and she couldn’t bear to leave her, not yet.

“You’re right,” she murmured, and couldn’t help but feel relief that she didn’t have to talk to Jesse, or give up Beth. Will cleared his throat beside her, and she thought it might have been the same for him, too.

As Rachel finished eating she glanced over at Beth and giggled at the mess she’d made. Will looked at her, startled, before following her gaze and joining in. Beth had managed to get syrup  _everywhere_ , even though Rachel could’ve sworn she hadn’t put that much on the plate. With an exaggerated sigh she rinsed her plate and put it in the sink, before going over to Beth with a wet paper towel.

Will rinsed his own plate, and as he was about to join her, there was a knock at the door. “That must be Emma,” he said, and answered the door. Rachel pushed down the unexpected sliver of jealousy she felt, and took one of the toddler’s hands in hers, washing it gently with the towel.

“Emma, thank you so much for doing this.” Rachel was to the side of Beth, and ever-so-casually she glanced up, trying to catch their conversation. She wasn’t able to hear much, they were whispering in the doorway, but Will looked hesitant, his arms crossing in front of him as he talked in hushed tones.

“Uh, yeah. Beth’s over here,” and he stepped back from the door, letting her into the room. Rachel looked up for real, not trying to hide her curiosity and smiled at the red-head.

Ms. Pillsbury smiled back sadly, and clutched at the purse over her shoulder. She looked as crisp and made-up as ever, despite the rush she’d had to get here and to leave. “Rachel, I’m so sorry to hear about Shel—your mom,” she was shifting, awkwardly, but Rachel felt uncomfortable with this, too.

“Thank you, Ms. Pillsbury.” She knew it was wrong to feel resentful of the woman that drove here in one day, the woman who was allowing her the chance to stay here, with Will. But she couldn’t help it, not after he’d told her about their relationship, after he’d held Rachel as she cried. Everything felt different, now, like she didn’t know how to respond to anyone.

She settled for a small smile and held up the hand of Beth’s she was cleaning off. “This is Beth. Beth, this is Ms. Pillsbury,” it must have been the strangest introduction she’d ever given, but the toddler was giggling, so she was, too.

“Oh, well, you’re,” she wrinkled her nose, “rather sticky, now aren’t you?” She looked over at Will, who was standing to her right. “That’s a lot of mess she’s made, isn’t it?” Her laughter was canned and uncomfortable, and Rachel looked at Will only to find an expression similar to her own. “Wow, I just, who knew kids could be quite so messy, right? I mean, everyone says they are, but that’s quite a, she just spilt syrup everywhere, didn’t she?”

Rachel turned back to Beth, wiping at the girl’s face now, uncomfortable watching Ms. Pillsbury as she had a minor meltdown. Beth, even, seemed a little scared by the woman, and Rachel ran a hand over her cheek, giggling at the sticky flesh there. “You certainly are a mess, Beth.”

She turned to look at the two standing as she used the now dirty cloth to clean her hand, rising to the sink to get a new one. Will shifted under Ms. Pillsbury’s gaze and he looked at Rachel. She offered him a small smile and his eyes dropped down, saw his forehead wrinkle in confusion or concentration. She couldn’t be certain.

But as she returned to the still sticky toddler with a new cloth, Will started to lead Ms. Pillsbury out. He was thanking her again, but it sounded different, somehow. She listened as he made her promise to call him, and thanked her once more before the door clicked shut.

Rachel didn’t want to say anything bad, but as she wiped the last stain from Beth’s mouth, she murmured, “Does Ms. Pillsbury have a problem with children?” It sounded mean as she said it, but when she looked at Will he just shrugged his shoulders, confused himself.

“I didn’t think so, but I guess her OCD makes it hard to deal with any kind of mess, so,” he trailed off and she nodded her head, lacking another response. “I, uh, do you mind if I hop in the shower?” She shook her head, not trusting her voice at the visual, and he left the room.

Now that Beth was clean, Rachel picked up her plate and set it by the sink, before letting Beth out of the chair and down on the floor. She toddled over to the couch and sat, holding her feet in her hands, sitting butterfly style. She was telling Rachel something, her fingers leaving her feet to point as she shook her head. Following her finger she found Beth was pointing at the TV. “Do you want to watch TV, Beth?” The little girl nodded, putting her hands on her hips, and she giggled. “OK,” she picked up the remote and found a cartoon, turning back to find Beth smiling and watching.

It was amazing how easily her attention was captured, she mused, going back to clean up the kitchen from the breakfast he’d made. It had been nice, waking up to breakfast cooked.  _And it was vegan_ , she remembered. It was something little, really, but it made her feel special, that he understood how important it was to her. She put the rest of the strawberries and blueberries in the refrigerator and wiped down the counter, before looking over the top of the couch.

Beth was still watching TV, so she went into the nursery and picked out some clothes for her, a pink jumper and a striped white and pink long sleeved shirt. Her feet made a muffled sound as she walked back down the hardwood hallway, and sat on the couch by Beth. The toddler didn’t take her eyes off of the screen as Rachel dressed her, taking the dirty pajamas and putting them carefully in the hamper.

She’d wash them that night, she decided, so that Shelby wouldn’t come back to a mess. The thought made her look at the clock on the DVD player to see that it was a little after nine thirty. She wanted to call the hospital, ask how Shelby was doing, but she didn’t want to take away the hope of getting to the hospital to find her awake, better.

The thought made her pause, lean against the counter. She wanted Shelby to wake up soon, of course, but there was a little part of her that couldn’t help but fear it, too. Fear having to face her mother about Jesse, about Vocal Adrenaline. Rachel pictured Shelby lying, helpless, in a hospital bed, and felt her anger waver a little. But she also couldn’t deny that she was hurt, and when Shelby was better, Rachel knew she’d want to talk, yell even, about what had happened with everything, with their relationship, or lack thereof. Especially now that she knew Will had talked to Shelby, warned her.

Beth giggled at a cartoon dog and Rachel smiled softly. It also hurt, unexpectedly so, to think about having to leave Beth. She knew she’d have to, and that if Quinn could, as her mother, she’d be able to, too. But it would hurt.

She heard the water turn off in the bathroom and she looked down, guiltily. The most selfish part of her, the part she knew was the worst to fear Shelby’s recovery, was the part that didn’t want Will to become Mr. Schuester, again. They’d talked, and grown closer, and he hadn’t been so damned paranoid about how he’d treated her for the past few days. It was nice, and she didn’t want to give it up. Their domesticity, she mused, the little part of her playing house—she didn’t want it to end. She wanted to keep waking up to soy milk pancakes and the feeling that there was something between them, that there was a possibility of  _something_  coming over the course of the day.

Mostly, she didn’t want to lose the way he looked at her, like he was meant to share her home.

“Thanks for putting the food away,” he smiled at her, and she tucked her hair behind her ear. He was wearing a different pair of jeans from yesterday, and one of his t-shirts, for once without a button-up. It was rare that she saw him like this, so casual, but she liked it, even though she loved the dress shirts and ties.

When she brushed past him to get her duffle from the bedroom, she could see that his hair was damp, and it looked like he hadn’t put any product in it. She thought back to the numerous bottles from his hotel room, and wondered why he wasn’t using them now.

She leaned over, picked up her bag and went back into the bathroom. The mirror was a little foggy, but the bathroom had mostly cooled from his shower, and she closed the door. The scent of his shower gel still lingered in the room and she inhaled the spiced, woodsy scent that was so heady. It was undeniably male, and she looked in the shower, not recognizing the brand on the dark blue bottle of body wash that was clearly his.

Closing her eyes a minute she undressed, dropping her clothes to a pile on the floor before pulling out her own shower gel, a light peach scent that she loved and her razor, along with a sea sponge and her own shampoo and conditioner. They were the same as Shelby’s but it felt better using her own, more like she was at home, that this was all normal.

The hot spray felt good and she took her time, enjoying the peach scent as it mixed with the heavier, manlier scent his wash had left behind. When she got out she felt refreshed, and she used the matching peach body lotion as she thought about the rest of the club heading back to school.

She was alone with Will now, almost. Of course she’d been  _alone_  with him for the past few days, but even then the kids were only a taxi cab away. Now, now she was really  _alone_  with him, in a foreign city. It was thrilling, this thought, as she slipped on a clean light blue bra and matching boy shorts. Her hair was curling against her cheeks in the warm room, so she brushed it through, leaving it to dry, slightly wavy, as she slipped on a solid black skirt, black camisole and red cardigan.

Once dressed she opened the door, letting some of the steam out of the room as she brushed her teeth again and put on some foundation and a little mascara.

She grabbed her duffle and left the room, going down the hall to drop the duffle on the bed and returning to the living room. Will was sitting with Beth, watching her from his end of the couch as she clapped along with the musical program. Letters were dancing and numbers were counting, but Will looked over at her from the toddler and raised his eyebrows. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, and went to the nursery to get the diaper bag again, and grabbed her purse. “Will you look in the cabinet for goldfish? She ate all of hers yesterday.” He nodded and got up from the couch, and she found a bottle with a lid to put some juice in. She wasn’t sure how long they’d be gone, and Beth had really enjoyed the crackers yesterday.

After she put the bottle in the diaper bag, Will turned to her, a sandwich bag of goldfish in his hands. “Thanks,” she smiled, and zipped the diaper bag closed. “Alright, I’m ready.” She went to go get Beth and he turned the TV off, before meeting her by the door.

She looked up at him and he gave a contented laugh, smiling at her and leading her out of the door. His hand fell from her back, but only after the entire walk down the hallway to the door outside.

The air was still cool, but warmer than yesterday, and she looked at the car parked on the curb. It was small and dark blue, but impressively shining. Instead of walking toward it, though, Will headed to another, open part of the curb and waved as a taxi passed. “Why aren’t we taking Ms. Pillsbury’s car?”

He squinted against the sun and shook his head. “It’ll just be a hassle to park, besides, it’s not that far away.” She nodded, and Beth bobbled in her arms as she craned her head to look at Will.

A cab finally came up and they got in, Will directing the cabbie to the hospital. They were silent for a moment, as they’d been in the cab many times this weekend, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was staring at her.

She tried to ignore the heat of his stare, assumed he was watching Beth, but after a few minutes she turned her head and received confirmation that he was looking at  _her_. “What?” She asked, laughing playfully.

He didn’t smile back at her, just licked his lips. “How are you doing, Rachel? Last night—“

“I’m fine.” He looked like he didn’t believe her, and she laughed, a little uneasy. “Really! Last night, I was surprised. I wasn’t expecting all of those,  _feelings_ , to come back. But I’m not upset.” And she wasn’t, not then, not with him looking at her like that. She took a breath and resituated Beth in her lap. “I’m sorry, that I broke down like that, in your arms.” She was blushing at the memory, and she thought he was, too.

“It’s fine, Rach. I understand. I’m glad I could be there, for you.” She smiled at him and he smiled back, both laughing just a little at the strange air of the cab. Looking up, Rachel realized the driver was watching them in the rear-view mirror, and she wondered what he thought they were. Did they look like friends? They were talking about comfort, and him helping her. Could the driver feel the awkward tension between them, that at least Rachel thought meant there was something a little something more to the story? Certainly he wouldn’t guess that this man was her  _teacher_ , would he?

She was trying to figure it out, almost wanted to just ask, but Will spoke again. “What about Shelby? Besides,” he struggled, “the answering machine, how are you doing?”

She thought for a moment, played with the hem of Beth’s jumper. “The doctor sounded confident, right?” He nodded, and smiled tentatively. “I think I believe she’ll be fine. Most of the time I don’t worry, because we’ve never had the all-out mother-daughter reunion of legend. Our time together has been tentative and painful, but bittersweet, too. It’s just, nothing has been explosive either way.”

She looked up at him, searched his eyes. He looked interested, like he actually wanted to hear, so she continued. “Between the two of us you’d think we need to have that, the drama. I don’t think there can be any kind of closure until we do, that nothing can  _happen_  to either of us.” Her lips twitched wryly as she added, “But then I stop and think about it, and I remember that life doesn’t work like that, that closure isn’t built into the everyday like it is a script.”

The cabbie was watching her in the mirror and she felt uncomfortable, for the first time, to have an audience. This moment felt too personal, too private. It belonged to her, and it belonged to Will, and to whatever they were, at least for these next few days.

Silence took the cab, and was only broken by Beth’s jabber. Rachel’s hands were resting on Beth’s back, and she felt something brush against her fingers. Looking over quickly she realized he was holding her hand in his, pulling it away from the toddler just a second, before she shifted Beth to her side. Their hands interlocked on the seat between them as Beth leaned against Rachel’s soft sweater.

Rachel mused on her answer to Will; it had been very, very honest, and she compared this ride to the first they’d taken to the hospital, after Quinn had gotten the call. She’d thought the look on his face had been something akin to pity then, but now, looking back, she wondered if it had been the true sympathy and care she felt now. She wasn’t sure what it meant, exactly, but as she looked up at his soft eyes and smiling lips, she knew it meant  _something_.

The cab came to a stop and he dropped her hand, shuffled out to pay the driver and helped both her and Beth out before the cab drove away. They made their way back upstairs, back to room 306, and Rachel held her breath as they neared Shelby. A nurse was using a syringe on the bag of fluids that hung above her mother and she felt her hand curl into a small, worried fist beneath Beth’s leg.

Shelby’s eyes were closed. Will sighed beside her, and she wondered at the sound. The nurse turned to both of them and smiled, and Rachel realized that it was the same, sweet faced nurse it had been the first day. She smiled at them, both, and after throwing a piece of paper away, she walked up to them. “How are you guys doing?”

Rachel watched her face carefully, waited for the tell-tale quiver that would reveal knowledge of her mother’s fate that was being withheld. But none came, and Rachel gave her a small smile. Will answered for them, with, “We’re doing alright, thank you. How is she?”

“She’s doing much better, and there’s been no swelling. Everything looks good, and the doctor thinks she’ll be awake in the next day or two.” The nurse reached out and stroked Beth’s hair, gently. “Your sister looks happy. Has she been having any problems?”

Rachel shook her head, feeling very shy. For some reason she felt as though this nurse was judging her, despite the kind tone in her voice. It was unsettling. “No, she’s been fine. She’s still eating, and playing. Sleeping well.” The last was a bit of a lie, after all that first night had taken a glass of juice in the middle of the night for Beth to sleep.

The nurse smiled, and it looked genuine. Rachel wondered if she’d misjudged the woman, and offered a smile of her own. “Well, that makes sense. She’s very young, and you and your mom certainly share a strong resemblance.” She stroked Beth’s head one more time before speaking to the little girl. “It’s so nice today, Beth. Are you going to go play outside?”

Rachel tilted her head, surprised that the nurse remembered so much about them. She realized that Beth, like Quinn, had a quality about her that proved unforgettable. It was a quality Rachel knew she had, too, but it was different—theirs was something more organic, more light and sweet.

The toddler seemed to perk up at the nurse’s words, and Rachel wondered what they should do with the suggestion. “If you need anything, let me know. Otherwise I’d say she’s still doing well. You’ll just have to hold on a little longer.”

Will nodded and thanked her as she left the room. Beth was looking at her mother in the bed, and squirming, so Rachel set her down, watched her carefully as she toddled over to her mother’s bedside. “It sounds good, Rachel.” She looked at him and nodded.

They stayed in the room for a while, and Rachel took one of the chairs against the wall as Will took the other. It was quiet and uneventful, but Beth was sitting on Will’s lap, watching Shelby, and they had nowhere else to be, so they stayed, sat in silence.

Rachel thought about Shelby, about Jesse, about Beth. Mostly she thought about Will, and how nice it felt to be with him, even through all of this. She wondered what he was thinking about.

Beth began to squirm in Will’s lap and he set her down. She started to move around, and Rachel thought about what the nurse had said. “Do you think we should take her to the park? She has been cooped up for the past few days.”

He nodded, sliding his hands into his front pockets. “I think that’s a great idea. Central Park is only a few blocks away.” Scooping up Beth they left the hospital and started down the street. Will was carrying her and Rachel fiddled with the straps over her shoulders, thinking. She knew she was waiting for Shelby to wake up, to be OK, but it felt like she was waiting for something else, too.

A block away from the park, Will put Beth down and took her hand, the little girl now walking between them. Beth grabbed her hand, too, and Rachel smiled, first at Beth and then at Will. They were taking up most of the sidewalk, but as she swung Beth’s hand, she couldn’t find the effort to care, not when everything felt so effortless, so unexpectedly  _nice_.

It was a Saturday morning though, and eventually they had to move over. Will picked Beth up quickly, playfully, and she squealed and giggled. Rachel laughed, too, her small teeth barred being far too adorable, and as they walked down the street Will stayed close to Rachel, out of the way of others.

She looked up at him and he smiled down at her, a little girl in his arms, and she wondered, again, what they must look like to the other people on the street. When Will’s hand came up to rest on her back she smiled, held the diaper bag tighter to her and decided she didn’t care, just leaned a little closer to them.

The playground came into sight after a few more steps, and they crossed the street to the big, open sandbox that contained a large red and blue structure, ending with a yellow slide. Beth seemed to perk up, and Rachel scanned the area, noticing only a few other families there.

Beth didn’t seem to mind, just ran for the structure the second Will put her down. He laughed at her enthusiasm and Rachel watched him a moment. He seemed to be having as much fun as she was, if not more, and Rachel clutched the strap of the diaper bag tighter to her.

She looked back at Beth, now near the playground equipment, and Rachel joined her. Beth was focused ahead of her, planting her hands on the platform linking two bridges, and Rachel sat down there, by her hands. Will was walking toward them now and when Beth looked over her shoulder at him he pretended to chase her, grabbing her waist and tickling. She shrieked, again, but giggled as he put her up on the platform.

Will stood by Rachel and both watched her run down the long bridge, her small legs pumping as her tiny tennis shoes hit the wooden planks. Rachel wondered if this was what Quinn used to be like, before the teasing and the nose job and the head cheerleader attitude.

Beth reached the end of the bridge but just turned around, running back toward them. When she got to Rachel she jumped, landing with a wobble. “Wow!” Rachel played along, her eyes wide and her smile big as Beth giggled. The toddler turned to the stairs in front of her and pulled herself up them, heading toward the slide at the top.

“Be careful, Beth,” Rachel warned, and swung her legs up onto the platform so she could follow the little girl. She caught up as Beth slapped her hands on the plastic open tubing, and looked back at Rachel. “Do you want to go down the slide?” Beth nodded and tried to answer her with more incomprehensible syllables.

“OK, Beth, I’ll catch you down here,” Will was at the bottom, crouched down and holding out his arms to do as he said.

With another glance at Rachel, Beth sat down, and scooted herself forward. “That’s right, Beth, he’ll catch you,” she encouraged as Beth pushed off and went down the slide. She cheered as Will tickled her at the bottom and hoisted her up in the air, before setting her back down on the sand.

Now at the top of the playground, Rachel turned and started to walk back down, to join up with the other two. Once back on sand, she found Will chasing Beth playfully, before picking her up and swinging her, again. She winced, wanting to tell him to be careful, but also had to giggle along with the toddler.

When he set her down again she plopped herself on a mound of sand and started to dig a hole in front of her. As adorable as Beth looked, Rachel felt her eyes shift, just for a moment back up to Will, standing so close next to her. When she was focused on Beth again, she spoke, her voice wavering just a little. “You’re really good with her, you know.”

He laughed, playing it off, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he thanked her. His hands were on his hips and he was standing behind her, just enough that she could feel the press of his elbow against the middle of her back if she shifted.

A woman and her son were heading over in their direction and Rachel stiffened, wanting to go stand by Beth. But the woman set her son down in the sand by Beth, and he started to copy her motions, digging a hole, too. Rachel relaxed, smiled at the woman, and felt her head dip to the side as the little boy followed Beth’s lead.  _Definitely Quinn’s daughter_ , she thought, but added,  _Shelby’s too._

The woman was walking over to them and this time she could feel Will stiffen, his hands dropping from his hip as one rested in its place on her lower back. “Hi,” she greeted, and they both smiled politely at her as she watched the kids with them. “Your daughter’s precious.”

Rachel blushed, crossing her arms in front of her and shaking her head. “Oh, she’s not—“

“Thank you. Your son is, too.” Her head snapped up, watching his face as he spoke to the woman a moment before she left to go sit on the playground platform nearby. He didn’t look down at her, though he must have felt her gaze, just watched Beth digging that hole.

Finally, she asked, “Why did you—“ he gulped and his eyes shifted, almost guiltily.

“It was just easier.” And he dropped his hand from her back to go crouch by Beth. Rachel hadn’t realized he’d been touching her the whole time, and she thought again about what they looked like. Thought that maybe, she wasn’t too far off about everything.

Beth was up again, running, and Will followed her to the swing set a little ways away. Rachel went to join them, the diaper bag still flung over her shoulder. She caught up as he was lowering her into one of the toddler swings, with the bucket seat. He started to push Beth but glanced over at Rachel with a bright smile.

He pushed Beth and she stood next to him, swaying a little in the breeze, the air gentle and just a little warm. She wished she’d worn a short-sleeved top. Thinking about the first night on the couch, as he held Beth, she asked, “Are you disappointed you don’t have a family yet?”

It sounded mean to her own ears, and she wanted to clarify, but he just pushed Beth and looked at her, shaking his head with a sad smile. She realized that he understood what she meant, hadn’t been offended, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“I have glee,” he shrugged his shoulders. After a few more pushes, he looked at her but spoke in a soft voice, “I have you guys.”

It made her sad, made her chest ache as he smiled and laughed as he pushed Beth gently. But he didn’t seem so hurt, not then, at least, so she gave him a smile, and even though it wasn’t real, she thought it might have been enough. He let Beth come back, and once she was stopped he picked her up and held her in his arms.

Rachel wondered if it was time to head back, but she just struggled until Will put her down again. She took off across the sand, and Rachel laughed, “Wow, she has quite the appetite for exercise, doesn’t she?”

Will nodded and they looked at each other a moment, until they heard a loud wail. Immediately their attention snapped over to Beth, who was down on the ground, not the sand, anymore, crying. Both rushed over, and kneeled down by her. Rachel ran her hands over her head as Will scanned her legs, until he murmured, “Oh, sweetie,” and she turned her head to see what he found.

She must have tripped on the edge of the sand and hit her knee, which had a smear of dirt but no blood. He made soothing noises to her as he brushed off the dirt, and Rachel rifled through the diaper bag in search of something to clean the knee to make sure she hadn’t started bleeding.

A pack of baby wipes met her hand and she pulled one out, shooing his hands away as she wiped gently at the area. There was still no blood, but Beth’s knee looked red and she was sniffling. “Oh, honey, see? You’re OK! It’s just a little owie, it’ll be OK.”

Beth was sniffling still so Rachel pulled her head forward and kissed her forehead, brushing the hair away from her red face. Will, meanwhile, pulled her knee toward him and kissed it, before looking up at her face.

All three were very close, but Beth’s cries were subsiding, and when Rachel asked, “He kissed it all better, right, Beth?” the little girl nodded wetly.

“There, there, Beth. It’ll be fine, right? Just like your—Rachel said.” She caught the stumble in his sentence but said nothing as he held the little girl to him and stood. Beth rested her head on his chest and her legs fell on either side of him, her fingers fisting in his shirt.

Rachel stuffed the baby wipe into the empty front pocket of the diaper bag and stood, brushing her skirt off lightly. “Should we head home, sweetie? Do you need a nap?” Beth shook her head against his shoulder, but her eyes were heavy.

With a glance at Rachel, Will stepped forward, heading toward the curb to hail a cab, and once in, he directed the driver to Shelby’s apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time the cab pulled up to Shelby’s apartment Beth’s eyes had closed and she was asleep. Will smiled at Rachel and, silently, they managed to get out of the taxi without waking the sleeping girl. Rachel headed to the door and Will opened it, guiding her and the sleeping toddler into the hallway.

“Thanks,” she whispered to him as he opened the door to the apartment, and she carried Beth into the room. Rachel walked down the hallway, and felt Will’s footsteps echo hers as she stepped into the nursery. He moved in front of her, lowering the crib as he’d done the first time they’d put her to bed, and she set Beth down.

Looking up at him with a gentle smile, Rachel felt a flutter as he returned the gesture before they both removed a shoe and set them on the dresser. With her head tilted gently to the side she watched as he pressed a kiss to Beth’s forehead before standing back up and looking at Rachel. Will turned to leave but she stayed to watch Beth, for just a second longer.

With a blush she looked to the door and, seeing that he’d left, she kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to Beth’s injured knee before pulling the soft blanket up and leaving the room.

Will was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter when she reached the end of the hallway. He was on the phone, smiling, but when she walked in he looked up. “Sounds great, Finn. Thanks for checking in.” He hung up the phone and pushed off from the counter, standing in front of her. “That was Finn.”

“Is everything all right?”

Nodding, he said, “Yeah. He, uh, he wanted to know how you were doing.” Will’s eyes were shifty, and she wondered what that meant, why he was so uncomfortable.

“What,” she was hesitant, not looking at him as she asked, “What did you tell him?”

“That Shelby was still unconscious, but the doctors were hopeful.” He cleared his throat and turned, went to the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher of water. “Want some water?”

She nodded, and walked around the counter to pull two glasses down. “And what did he say?” She had promised herself she wasn’t going to go after Finn again, not to date, but his opinion still meant a lot to her.

“He asked me to have you call him, when you got a chance.”

She felt uncomfortable, suddenly, and she was grateful for the distraction of the drink in her hand as she took a sip. Setting it down on the counter she trailed her fingers up the side, mumbling, “That’s strange,” before looking up at him from under her lashes.

He shifted, putting the pitcher away before he spoke, his tone as low as hers had been, “He cares about you, Rachel.” She watched as he took a drink, not meeting her eyes. “Like you still care about him, I suppose.”

It felt like he was fishing for something, and she watched him as she took the bait. “Of course, that makes sense. Our budding friendship is something I rather enjoy, even if it hurts, occasionally.”

Her words seemed to ease something, so when he turned to go to the couch she followed him. They both took their spots on opposite ends, and Will picked up the remote. Flipping through channels, she inwardly groaned as boredom started to hit. She’d had so much responsibility suddenly that it was tiring, but right now there was nothing happening, and she felt restless.

Her book sat on the coffee table, but the thought didn’t hold her interest. Instead she stretched out on the couch, her bare feet making it a little past her cushion and onto the one between them. She held her breath a second, hoping she wasn’t invading his space, but he just looked down at her painted white toenails with a twitch of his lips.

His eyes slid back to the TV, still trying to find something, and stretched his own legs out behind hers against the back of the couch. Having longer legs than she did, his feet rested by her hip, and she giggled a little at the striped socks. He didn’t seem to notice, though, so she just leaned her head back, watching him.

Rachel could tell he was watching her, too, trying not to but glancing out of the corner of his eye. He finally landed on some sitcom, and looked at her. “You’re staring at me.” His lips were quirked and his voice was light, so she shrugged her shoulders and crossed her arms over her waist.

“I’m trying to figure out why you’re such a good cook. You strike me as one of the takeout exclusive.” He laughed but shook his head.

“Not exactly. But pizza’s a nice solution to laziness, sometimes.” Flexing her toes she pressed them against the cushion and waited for a real answer. “Terri wasn’t much of a chef.”

His eyes lowered and she felt bad for bringing it up, but talking like this was nice, and she wanted to keep doing it. “I’m sorry to hear that. So you learned how to cook to save yourself from ramen?” He laughed.

“Exactly. I’d had enough of that in college.”

“What were you like in college?”

Now he shifted, pulling his legs back a little, like she was going to attack any exposed part of him. He chuckled, but it sounded too forced, and she knew he was uncomfortable. “Uh, I guess like I am now, really. You’re awfully curious right now.”

Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear and crossed her legs at the ankles. “I’m always curious, Will.” He smirked, but didn’t seem to relax. “I guess, I just like talking to you.”

Finally his shoulders eased, and his face softened with a loose smile. “I like talking to you, too, Rachel.” His laugh was real as he stuck out his chin and groaned. “OK, I wasn’t quite like I am, now. I was full of energy, and in love, and very optimistic.”

“You’re still optimistic, Will.” It all felt so personal, calling him by his name and making statements about what he was like, as if she knew him. But he just smiled, nodded a little, and she thought that maybe she was right, maybe she did know him.

“I guess I am. It’s different, though.” The glint in his eye was dimming, and she nudged his knee with her toes.

“You’re hurt, right now. But you’re still the same guy.” With a shrug, she picked at her hem and looked down. “You were that guy when I first met you.”

“Ah. That feels like forever ago, doesn’t it.” He was deflecting but she was fine with it, as long as he was still talking with her, about her, even. About them.

“It certainly does. I haven’t posted a MySpace video in months.” Will laughed, deeply, and she nudged him again. “Hey! That doesn’t make me a loser, you know, trying to put myself out there.” She was trying to be playful, but the quiver in her voice gave her away and she blinked, grateful when her hair fell around her face like a curtain.

“Hey,” he nudged her this time, with his foot against her thigh. “I don’t think you’re a loser. Putting yourself out there—it’s great. Don’t ever stop trying, Rach.”

His words were meant to comfort her, and they did, but he also shifted the spotlight back to himself. “Did you stop, Will? Stop trying?”

He gulped, and picked up the remote, flipping channels as a commercial came on. She ignored the flashing and kept her eyes trained on him. “I didn’t realize I had. But—“

She rested her hand gently on his calf, covered in dark wash denim. “When you married Mrs. Sch—Terri?” She tested his ex-wife’s name on her lips, found it tasted bittersweet.

The TV shut off abruptly and he set the remote on the table. “Yes. Alright?” She jerked her hand back and he groaned, running his hands over his face. “Rachel, I’m sorry.” She smiled, understanding.

“I know. I’m sorry I pushed. You just seem unhappy, lately.” He gulped. “I thought maybe you wanted to talk about it, with someone.” He was watching her, still. “People don’t realize it, but I can actually be a very good listener.”

Finally, he dropped his hands to his lap and shook his head, but said, “I think,” he hesitated again, and she knew he was conflicted about sharing with her, sharing with a student. But she had to be more than that now, she just  _had_  to.

“I think I am. Unhappy.” His words were crisp and he gulped, his Adam’s apple prominent over the t-shirt collar.

She wanted to tell him that they all loved him, glee did, but she’d just told him she was a good listener. And, for some reason, she knew the words would change things, now that she was sharing a couch and calling him Will.

Her hand dropped back to his leg, and her thumb brushed the denim, slowly. “It’s not glee—actually, it’s everything around glee.” He was looking down, at nothing, and she froze, terrified to move and keep him from sharing with her. “But after glee I go home, and I grade a few papers, and then it’s over. I have nothing to do.”

She waited a moment, made sure he was finished, and then, slowly, “I’m sorry, Will.” She knew what he meant—other than homework her nights were pretty uneventful. Occasionally Kurt or Mercedes would want to go somewhere with her, but Kurt had Blaine and Mercedes was still a little hesitant to be with her, just the two of them. When she wasn’t dating someone, Rachel was quite bored. In fact, she reasoned, that might even be the  _reason_  she dated, partly. “I know what you mean.”

He looked back at her now, and she thought he was searching her face for confirmation, that she did, in fact, know what he meant. “I don’t have friends, not really. I’m actually bored a lot of the time.”

She caught the movement of his chest, and she scratched gently at the material under her nails. “I am, too.” His words fell between them, neither added to it or withdrew, just let the next level of common ground settle between them.

Will cleared her throat and she wondered if he was uncomfortable with her touching him, so clearly without purpose. But when she looked over at him his own eyes were downcast, near her ankle. She thought that, if her legs were a little longer, he might be doing the same.

“I know it’s little consolation, but glee makes up for it, most the time.” She was crediting him as she said it, hoped he understood that.

“Me, too.” His tone matched hers and she was grateful. Rachel leaned the side of her head against the back of the couch, and pulled her legs up a little, until she slid her foot under the back of his knee.

It was oddly intimate, the weight of his leg over her foot, and he sucked in a breath but didn’t retreat. Instead, he said, “I didn’t mean to stop trying. It just happened. Terri got a job and I started to teach at McKinley. We both wanted a family.”

She watched her hand on his calf and nodded. Her fingers slid off of the denim slowly, and onto the top of his foot, the material of the sock a strange transition. “I’d been doing local theatre during my spare time, but I had to stop.”

The air between them had softened, and as she ran a finger up the arch of his foot he flexed his toes, and she asked, “What changed?”

Her head was leaned sideways and her hair had fallen off of her shoulder. The air of the apartment was cool on her neck and she wondered if he was looking at her exposed skin, found herself wishing he was. “Terri, she started to resent me never being home. And I realized I had to choose between family and performing.”

Rachel‘s foot was getting tingly under his knee and she pulled it toward her, sliding it the length of his calf until her feet were resting under his ankles. “I chose family, but planned to go back. And then I just never did.”

She looked up to his face, saw his eyes heavy as she rested her hands on his leg again. Rachel remembered the visit from Bryan Ryan, and how he’d given up his return to theatre for them, for her. “When glee came along, it was my chance, and I took it.”

Rachel wondered if that was why he had gotten divorced, because of glee. “Do you regret it?”

“Not at all, actually. I regret a lot of choices I’ve made, but not that one.”

She smiled, and he did, and the strange haze was starting to lift between them. “I meant it, when I told you I was happy you didn’t become an accountant.”

“I know.” He pulled his legs back and she felt a sudden loss. But then he was reaching his hand out after he stood, holding it out for her to take. She did, and he pulled her to standing, right in front of him.

They were holding hands, and there was no noise, just their soft breath between each other, as they stood by the couch. Rachel resisted the urge to squeeze his hand, and asked, “But you’re not unhappy now, here?”

She remembered his words that first night, when he’d inadvertently hurt her as he clarified that it was because of Beth, not her. He looked a little uncomfortable, but he smiled, sadly, and dropped her hand. She waited for the repetition of the words, waited for him to tell her, again, that it wasn’t because of her.

His hand rose between them, took a piece of her hair and slid, slowly down her hairline to tuck it behind her ear, gently. “Not now, no.”

Before she could breathe again he was gone, walking down the hallway and into Beth’s room. With heated cheeks she went into the kitchen, and drank the rest of her glass of water. They way he had looked at her, had touched her so sweetly, made her think back to that first night, when he’d told her it was because of Beth. Rachel remembered how he’d looked over at her from across the couch and smiled, before clarifying.

The smiles had been the same, then and now, and she started to wonder if maybe it had been a lie, meant to disguise that she, too, was part of his happiness.

She shivered. The moment had meant  _something_ , and though she wasn’t sure what, yet, she knew it was building. She was getting so close to an answer, it was taking form in her mind, and she felt pressure low in her stomach at the thought.

Beth’s toddler talk was the first think she heard, and when she turned she saw her in Will’s arms. “I think it’s time for lunch,” Will said, and set her in the high chair.

His face was unreadable, showing no reaction to their conversation, but she didn’t take it personally. It was past the point of her assuming he was trying to hurt her, or worse, that he didn’t care.

He cared, she knew that after how he’d talked with her, and held her, and helped her. His expression of neutrality was to save both of them, she thought, though she still couldn’t be certain from what, exactly.

Will pulled a bag of bread from the shelf over the counter and pulled out a few slices of bread. “Peanut butter sandwiches?”

“Sounds great,” she said softly, stroking Beth’s hair back down from its mussed sleep status. He started to spread the creamy substance on the wheat bread, and she busied herself getting Beth’s juice and plates and refilling their glasses of water.

As he put three sandwiches together he asked, “Crusts or no crusts?” She held out Beth’s plate as he cut hers into four equal triangles.

“Crusts, please.” He smiled, and stacked theirs together, cutting them down the middle, before giving each of the other two plates a full sandwich. While she took their plates to the counter, Will handed Beth hers.

It was simple, being here, eating lunch with Will and Beth. She realized it had never felt this  _easy_  before, with anyone else, any of the guys she’d dated. “I was supposed to call Finn!” She realized, and set the plates down. When he glanced at her over his shoulder she could have sworn something crossed his face before he nodded and turned back to the toddler.

Rachel headed down the hall, into Shelby’s room. It wasn’t necessary, not really for a short phone call. But after their talk she didn’t really want Will to think about her and Finn, together. It was a tightening in her chest she’d rather avoid.

Dialing his number she held the phone to her ear, sitting down on the edge of Shelby’s bed. She’d left the door open, and from her position, if she leaned forward just a little, she could see Will, sitting in front of Beth’s high chair, his back to her.

“ _Uh, hey.”_ There was a lot of noise on the other end of the line, mostly from the rumble of the bus, however she could hear several bouts of laughter.

“Hi, Finn. Wi—Mr. Schue said you wanted to talk to me?” It was shocking, she thought, how quickly she’d slipped into calling him by his first name. The idea that she’d have to go back to calling him Mr. Schuester again in a few days left her mouth a little dry.

“ _Yeah, Rach. We just wanted to know how you were doing, with everything._ ” It touched her, it really did, that her teammates were actually asking about her. And it really was about  _her_ —it wasn’t about her relationship (because it affected the team), or her voice (because it most  _definitely_  affected the team). They were asking about  _her_.

Her breath caught and she remembered why she kept falling for Finn. Because of things like this—it wasn’t too often, but when he made her feel loved, she saw stars and hearts and wanted to doodle  _Mrs. Rachel Berry-Hudson_  in notebooks because Berry was too good of a stage name to give up completely for any man.

But he’d burned her, too many times now, and being friends, well, sometimes it felt almost as good. She was going to have to learn to have some patience. “I’m doing fine. Thank you guys, for being so helpful about everything. And for not throwing a crazy party, or ruining anything in the hotel.”

Finn laughed and those hearts lingered behind her eyes. “ _Yeah, Rach. Except we did, sorta.”_

The hearts faded a little more. “What?” Her voice was raised and she glanced out the door, waited for Will to turn and look at her but he didn’t.

“ _No, we didn’t trash the place! We just,_ ” his voice lowered, too. “ _We had a little party. Quinn, you know, she was really bummed. Especially after you came to the hotel with Beth_.”

Rachel knew he wasn’t trying to hurt her, but he was. “I’m sorry.” It felt easier to apologize like this, with Finn as the mediator still.

“ _Nah, Quinn’s not mad at you, I don’t think. And she’s fine. Plus Kurt and Mercedes didn’t drink, and we didn’t break anything._ ” His voice was trailing off and she knew it was dawning on him that he shouldn’t have told her anything. Thinking of their friendship, she wanted to tell him it wasn’t a big deal. But she looked down the hallway again and thought about how they put their director in a really bad position.

“OK, that’s good, I guess. And you’re all being really respectful of Ms. Pillsbury?”

Finn scoffed, laughed a little. “ _Geez, Rach, you sound like Mr. Schue._ ” The laughter was getting louder on the bus, and Rachel sighed, realizing she was being a little hard on them. Before she could say anything, he asked, “ _How is it?_ ”

She giggled a little as a little arm came into her sightline behind Will, and dropped a peanut butter sandwich triangle. “What do you mean?”

“ _Like, living with a teacher, and stuff. Taking care of_ ,” he hesitated, and she could see him, sitting in a bus seat, his hand in his pocket, his shoulders hunched awkwardly as he looked around for Quinn, “ _a baby?_ ”

Will’s low laugh echoed down the hallway as he reached his hand toward Beth with her sippy cup. “It’s,” she had no idea how to finish that sentence. Living with Will and Beth was, well, “like playing house, I guess.”

She gulped, bit her tongue as if that could take it back. It felt like too much to share with Finn, when she was so uncertain of all of it herself. “ _Huh, I guess it’s ‘cause you’re a chick, and you like that kind of stuff._ ”

Looking down the hall again, she felt her eyes soften, her shoulders drop a little. Will was picking Beth up, out of the high chair, and after kissing her cheek, he set her down. When he turned to watch Beth toddle into the living room she could see the absentminded smile on his lips. “Yeah, I guess that’s why.”

“ _Well, I’m glad you’re alright, Rachel. Oh, Quinn wants to talk to you. Is,_ ” he paused and her eyes widened, “ _that cool with you?_ ”

“Yeah, of course it is, Finn.” There was a rustling on the other end as he handed the phone over, and she shifted on the bed, picking at the hem of her skirt. Quinn had been fine, sweet even, in the hotel, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“ _Rachel?_ ” There was more shifting and the laughter in the background got quieter, like Quinn was moving away from the rest of the group.

“Hi, Quinn. How are you?” She didn’t want to assume familiarity, tried to stay conversational.

“ _I’m doing much better, thanks. Finn says you’re doing alright?_ ” Rachel nodded, even though Quinn couldn’t see her, but her question wasn’t really a question so much as a formality. “ _And_ ,” Rachel knew where this was going, prayed that Quinn wouldn’t ask. Beth went to the hotel twice, and half of the times Quinn had a panic attack and the other half resulted in a kind of friendship between the two teens. Quinn’s reaction was too much of a gamble.

“ _How is Beth doing?_ ”

“She’s fine, I think. She’s quiet, but she’s eating and sleeping.” Rachel wondered if she should lie to Quinn, and tell her that Beth had said her name last night when she was being put to bed or something equally endearing. But that was even more of a gamble, and to risk it all for a lie would be too much.

“ _That’s,”_ Rachel’s breath hitched,  _“that’s great, Rachel. I’m glad she’s so comfortable, with you and Mr. Schue._ ”

There was no hint of bitterness in her words, and Rachel breathed out, “Thank you, Quinn,” before she could stop herself.

 _“We told Mr. Schue to pass on a hug from all of us._ ” Quinn’s voice was airier, and the laughter was getting closer again. Quinn was moving back toward the rest of them, about to hang up. Rachel felt a jolt of relief. “ _He did, right?_ ”

With a little laugh she confirmed, “Yeah, he did. Tell everyone I really,”  _needed it_ , “appreciate it,” she settled for.

“ _OK, Finn’s getting a text.”_

“Oh, sure. Thanks, Quinn. For keeping everyone from getting out of hand.” Quinn laughed a little, and told Rachel to thank Mr. Schuester, too, before she hung up.

Rachel sat on the bed for a moment, a strange sense of accomplishment in her chest. When she stood she brushed her hands down her skirt before walking down the hall. Will was sitting in the living room, a little closer to the middle of the couch than in his corner, and both of their plates and glasses were on the coffee table.

“Quinn wanted me to thank you,” Rachel said, walking into the living room and rounding the couch. She looked down at both plates, and saw that he’d added the fruit from breakfast and some tortilla chips. Beside her glass of water was a mug, and as she stood by the coffee table she could see the string of a teabag hanging out.

“That’s very nice of her,” and Rachel felt a sudden stab of jealousy, remnants, she figured, of Thursday morning. Rachel looked down, saw her plate seated in a little from the edge of the coffee table, closer to him than she’d need to be, and the tea he’d bought and made for her. She felt the jealousy drain from her and she smiled, instead.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she blushed, her hair a curtain again, and she sat down in between the middle and corner cushions, leaving about two feet between them.

“No problem. I made some tea, I didn’t know if—“

“I was just thinking about having some.” Rachel looked up, saw him watching his plate, and realized how close together they actually were. Thought about how he  _put_  them this close. Rachel thought about what Quinn had asked, if Will had hugged her. He hadn’t, but now, she thought that maybe he wanted to.

“I—“ she stopped herself as she thought about how awkward it would be to hug on the couch. Knowing she’d much rather feel his arms around her, completely, she bit her tongue, decided to save it for later, when they were both standing. “It looks so good,” she finished, lamely.

“Beth enjoyed it,” he laughed and her tension eased as she started to eat. Will had turned on the TV, and the commercials ended to the beginning of a crime show procedural. “Do you want to watch something else? Shelby has some DVDs on the shelf over there.” Rachel followed where he was pointing, and saw a small collection on the shelves.

Setting down the sandwich half in her hand she stood, went over to scan the titles. There were a lot of musicals, of course, some kid’s shows, and several older films. Rachel thought about how he’d been choosing musicals, perhaps as common ground, and ran her finger over the edge of the row, trying to decide. Her forefinger hovered over  _Annie_ , but she dismissed the thought quickly, as the idea of Grace and Daddy Warbucks taking care of a girl that wasn’t theirs floated through her mind.

Rachel closed her fingers around a case, finally, and raised her eyebrows as she showed him. “ _Wizard of Oz_?”

“Sure,” he said with a small, relieved laugh, and she wondered if he saw her hesitate on the other spine. She slipped the DVD into the player, ruffling Beth’s hair as she kneeled down to reach the disk tray. Beth just looked up at her as she walked back to the couch before going back to coloring on the floor.

Rachel took her seat on the couch, inching ever so slightly closer to his side as she did. He said nothing, just snacked on his chips, and she took a drink from her tea.

He hit play and they watched, quietly, and finished their lunches. Rachel tried to chew silently, the noise feeling almost deafening in the quiet beginning of the movie. When she looked at him in the corner of her eye, she saw that he was doing the same.

When she finished, she shifted, before looking over to find him finished, too. “I can take your plate,” and he didn’t argue, just smiled as he handed it to her. Rinsing the crumbs and fruit remnants off, she couldn’t help but wonder at the surprised look on his face a moment when she offered. Rachel had met Terri, of course, in their home, even, and Rachel knew she seemed like she avoided housework (pawned it off on Rachel, she remembered with a sting), but now she was wondering to what extent, exactly.

Rachel turned to go back to the couch, but was stopped as Will stood in front of her. “Hey,” her voice was raised, curious.

“Do you want some animal crackers?” Rachel giggled at the question and he smiled back, stepping next to her against the counter to reach into the cabinet. He came back with a box of animal crackers, and after opening the package he took a few and handed the red box to her.

She took it, smiling still, and scanned the ingredients before taking a few for herself and handing the box back. He hummed a little in appreciation before turning to go back to the couch, and she followed. When he went over to Beth she was grateful, and she sat down quickly, so that he would have to sit down after, place himself. She was curious as to how close he would sit.

Beth took the cookie from him and he stroked her back before coming back to sit down on the couch. Her breath caught as he lowered himself less than a foot away, and put his feet up on the coffee table. With his head leaned back against the couch he ate another cookie and offered her the box.

“Thanks,” she giggled again, and she was certain the cause was his proximity this time. As the tornado turned on screen they passed the box back and forth, until she found a camel cookie. “I hate the camel ones.”

He rolled his head to her with raised eyebrows, and let out a low laugh. “Why?”

She inspected it, not quite sure herself, until she squinted her eyes at the cookie and said, “The bump is so inconvenient. All of the other animals are fairly evenly shaped, but the camel sticks out.” She blushed, suddenly realizing that she’d just said the most unnecessary, silly thing she could have, but he just laughed.

“Trade for a,” he looked into the box and pulled out a cookie, “polar bear?” She nodded and he held out the cookie between them. With a tentative hand she took it, and gave him her camel cookie.

“Thanks,” she smiled at him. When he smiled back she ducked her head and ate the cookie, before matching his pose, with her (much shorter) legs on the table and her head against the back of the couch.

Movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye and she looked down to find Beth, standing by the couch and tugging at her skirt. “What, sweetie?”

Beth pushed at Rachel’s leg and pointed at the box of cookies, making noises. “Here you go, Beth. Last one, though,” and he leaned toward the little girl, hand outstretched with a cookie. His chest was close to her arm and she felt her eyelashes flutter, embarrassed at the thrill it sent through her.

The little girl went back to her spot and Will closed the box, setting it on the coffee table between them. After, the room fell quiet as Will and Rachel watched the movie. Rachel, for her part, was having trouble concentrating. She could smell the spicy, warm scent of his body wash and she blushed a little, remembering how it had felt to shower with that scent around.

When the munchkins appeared, Rachel caught sight of Beth watching the screen, Ariel’s face abandoned on the living room floor, purple hair the only feature finished. When the colorful characters started to dance, Beth made noises, jabbering along with the characters. After a minute, Rachel realized what Beth was doing. “Beth, are you singing along?”

The toddler looked back at Rachel and stood on chubby legs, lumbering over to Rachel to tug at her again. Beth was pointing at the screen and jumping up and down, so Rachel pulled her up to the couch and sang along, smiling and nodding to let Beth to know to continue.

Rachel thought about her singing trophies from younger than Beth’s age with a sudden press of superiority. Shelby may have chosen Beth, but Rachel had the  _talent_ , and Shelby would have to live with that.

With a little jump Beth landed on her knees in Rachel’s lap, pressing at Rachel as Will joined in, singing. Both heads shot over at the noise and Rachel grinned, singing louder as Beth migrated toward his voice. He grabbed her sides, suddenly and she giggled, shrieked like she had earlier.

Rachel leaned her head back again as she watched them play, his hands tickling Beth’s stomach as he laid her over his legs on her back. Her little feet kicked in the air and he laughed with her, before she squirmed and slid down to the ground.

Wincing, Rachel watched Beth get up immediately and run around the back of the couch, into the kitchen area. “Beth,” Rachel warned playfully. But Will just got up and ran around to get her.

Behind her was a cacophony of giggling and shrieking and low rumbles of Will’s voice, so Rachel stood to look at what was happening. He was on the ground, playing with her, pretending to wrangle her. He looked so free, so incredibly happy, and she decided that yes, this was his purpose: family.

“Beth! Get her!” And Rachel’s eyes widened as the toddler followed his pointing finger and ran toward her. On instinct Rachel rounded the couch and shuffled out of the way down the hall. But Beth, of course, had a straight shot to her from behind the couch and Rachel couldn’t  _run_  away, not really.

Beth would tag her, she would let her. But as she slowed she glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of Will scooping Beth up, holding the little girl toward Rachel with one arm, and reaching his other arm out toward her.

All at once she felt his arm around her stomach, his chest against her back, and Beth’s fingers pressing into her upper arm. “No!” She shrieked, like Beth had done moments ago, and she laughed, hard, as the other two’s mirth caught her up.

The musical number on screen had faded and their breath was evening out from the laughter, but he was still holding her. Beth tugged at the chain on Rachel’s neck and she turned into the girl, and, by default, Will.

His hand rested on her lower back, now, and he held her close to him, closer than she’d ever been. He’d hugged her before, when they got a second chance for glee, when they won Regionals, when he gave her the award for MVP. The award with the gold star that sat in front of her mirror, now.

But each time had been fleeting, and drenched in emotion. His touch now was different, was lingering and unrushed and she savored it, the moment. Beth was pressed between them on one side, still playing with the gold star at her neck, but the side holding Rachel to him, nothing kept them apart. She was pressed almost flush against him, and she felt her eyes drop closed quickly at the heady sensation.

The body wash was stronger, now, since they were so close. But also, she thought, maybe because his pulse was racing just like hers.

Beth trying to speak brought her attention back, and Will dropped his hand from her back as Rachel gently untangled Beth’s fingers from the gold. When she was freed he stepped back, set Beth down with a nuzzle and she toddled down the hallway as Will followed her.

Rachel let out an almost silent shuddering breath and licked her lips. Her head felt like it was swimming, like it was still trapped in that embrace, and she sat herself back down onto the couch. This time she made sure to edge just a bit to her corner.

That had been thrilling, his touch on her back, but it was also a little startling, how strongly she felt about the press of his fingers. It had never been like this with Finn, Jesse, Noah, even. When Finn had touched her it had been sweet, like she thought it was supposed to be when you were young and in love, all hesitant and thinking of making the other comfortable.

Jesse had been confident, had reached for her in her bedroom like it was his right. It had made her feel desirable and mature, but also a little disconnected from him, in a way. Like it was more his lips on hers than it was their lips together.

And Noah, his touch had been thrilling in that it migrated quickly. Not long after he’d asked to make out he’d had his hand on her breast, her thigh, trailing under her skirt. It had been nice, and very, very sexual. But she had to admit that it had also been a little needless. She enjoyed having Noah as a friend, enjoyed playing his girlfriend for those two or three days, but there’d been no real desire to be with him, not really.

Will, though, his touch had felt  _different_. And not, at all, in an unpleasant way. She closed her eyes, feet planted firmly on the floor, and drifted back to the hard press of his chest, the strong forearm against her side, and the gentle palm of his hand. He’d been powerful against her, she’d felt the sheer masculinity of his embrace, and the way he held her to him, like he needed to touch all of her, all at once.

But while he’d pulled her to him and held her there, his palm had cupped her lower back softly, and the press of his fingers had been light, as though, if she were to pull back in a second, he’d let her. It was need and want and consideration, all together.

The couch sank beside her and she opened her eyes quickly, smiling bashfully at his own smile. It didn’t quite reach Will’s eyes, and that worried her a little. But after a minute he directed his attention to Beth sitting back down to color, and he resumed his earlier position, his legs on the table and his head leaned back. When he shifted almost imperceptibly toward her, she relaxed.

()()()

 _Wizard of Oz_  had finished and they’d watched fifteen minutes of the news because both were too comfortable to get up. But now Rachel was feeling a little restless, not used to staying still for so long, and from the push of Beth’s hands on her leg, Beth felt the same way.

“What do you think of taking her for a walk?” Will looked over at her, his head still on the couch, and she realized that he seemed even closer than before. She bit her cheek after she asked, realizing she could have just said she was going, and told him he could come if he wanted to.

But that implied a disinterest in his presence, to an extent, and as he smiled and nodded at her, she realized that wasn’t the case. She very much wanted him to come with her.

Rachel returned his grin and stood, before walking down the hall to the closet she’d seen there. “I’ll look for a stroller,” she said, and pulled the door open. Shelby was, fortunately, very organized, and Rachel found it quickly, folded up against the wall.

After dragging it out she turned to the side, where Will was walking over with Beth. He brushed past her in the hallway into Beth’s room, and she worked on opening the stroller, found it difficult. When he came back out Beth had a light denim jacket, and was clapping her hands.

Will let Beth down, and she toddled away, toward the living room again. “Do you want some help?” His voice was light, a little teasing, even.

“No, I think I can—“ her voice was taut as she struggled with a latch, until her grip slipped and she stumbled back. His hand shot out to her arm, held her, and laughed a little. “OK, maybe a little.”

He didn’t tease her about her inability, just squeezed her arm before letting go and opening the stroller up. When he set the opened seat down, she turned to grab her purse from the bedroom. “Come here, Beth,” she heard from the living room as she came back in, wheeling the stroller in front of the door. She watched as he picked her up and settled her in, and with a click they were set to go.

It was difficult, maneuvering the large buggy, but she started to get the hang of it once they were out the door and heading down the sidewalk. Rachel thought back to when she was little, would play mommy with her baby dolls and little pink stroller.

Will was silent beside her, his hands in his pockets, his elbows out to the side just a little. It was still playing mommy, she knew, but it was different now that she understood more of what being a “mommy” actually was.

From the side of her eyes she caught Will smiling down, and she giggled lightly, a little awkward in the sudden silence. She had things to ask him, but being outside felt like a reprieve of everything, so they just strolled down the block.

Every once in a while she would feel the heat of his stealthy stare, and when she’d look over he’d look down. It was an interesting game of cat and mouse, one she’d played enough with Finn, but this game was for fun, it wasn’t about winning, or proving anything.

When he looked away, she watched him, too.

Beth was quiet, enjoying the walk with them, but occasionally she would gargle from under the shaded hood of the stroller. Will looked down, making sure she was fine, and when he straightened back up his eyes connected with Rachel’s and he winked.

A flood of warmth started, low, and she thought again about the hug he’d been told to give her.

“I think we should head back,” and he sounded regretful, like he wanted to walk with her longer, maybe even forever. But it was silly and romanticizing everything so she shook her head in agreement as he helped her turn the stroller around.

They’d walked for about fifteen minutes, and it was a good long walk back, still in silence. But the awkwardness of the beginning of the stroll had eased, and now she stared ahead, her thoughts trained on the hug she wanted from him, more and more.

Rachel rounded the corner back to Shelby’s home, and he stepped in front of the stroller, lifted the end as they got the stroller back up the two small steps to the apartment complex. “Got it?” Will asked, as he lowered her back down, and smiled at Rachel.

When the stroller was stopped in the entryway, Rachel looked down, smiling as Beth sat, peacefully. Cousin Leon’s stories had not prepared her for such a docile child, really, and she was infinitely grateful. Kneeling, she undid the strap on Beth’s waist and lifted her out, setting her on the floor.

She giggled and clapped and parked herself on the floor nearby to play with her shoes. When Rachel looked back up Will had broken down the buggy again, and leaned it against the back of the couch as they both watched Beth.

“Quinn checked to see if you passed on the hug they’d sent,” she was aiming for nonchalant, playful, but it just sounded desperate to her own ears.

But he just angled toward her and gave her a dopey, but worried smirk. It was confusing, this mixture of feelings he was displaying, and she waited for him to laugh it off. She’d been smiling, trying to convince him of the gentle teasing, but when he continued to watch her face it fell.

She gave her own lips a shallow lick, and tried not to burst when he stepped toward her, his own smile faltering. With his arms open he gave a small, forced laugh and she stepped into him, raising her arms to his neck.

 _Overwhelming_  was the word she finally came to as she stood in the middle of the apartment, speechless and pressed against him.

His arm around her earlier had been surprising and oddly pleasant, but this was so much more. Her height brought her face into his chest, and he had to lean forward, into her more, to make up for the short arms around his neck. That warm scent was enveloping her, making her a little dizzy and she couldn’t stop from smiling against his t-shirt, her expression hid in their embrace.

His arms wrapped around her waist completely, and she realized just how big he was, in comparison to her small stature. She always felt so big, but like this, with him, she felt small, too. Rachel never considered herself as one who needed to be protected, not really, but that’s exactly what his arms felt like, his fingers curling over the curve of her waist just tight enough to draw her attention.

Their legs were pressed together, too, and she realized how they were matching each other, in every way.

Breath stirred the locks of hair around her shoulders, and as he sighed a little she realized his nose was almost pressed against her neck, knew his mouth wasn’t far, either. Briefly, she considered angling her head more, pressing her flesh against his lips. It was a bad idea, in several ways, and she bit her own lip instead as she inhaled him.

Her eyes had squeezed shut, tightly, and the pressure was causing small bursts of light in the dark of her eyelids. She wondered, then, if that’s what people mistook for “fireworks,” that pressure.

The hug lasted forever and not enough time, because before she’d gotten her fill he was easing back, away. He left her and she swayed slightly, trying to smile but feeling it fail on her lips. He cleared his throat and she looked up at him, at the way he was blinking his eyes just like her. Rachel thought that, maybe, he’d been squeezing just as tight.

Her gratitude died on her tongue as he went to sit on the couch, his back to her. Thanking him didn’t feel right, not when she was considering that he might have liked it, just as much.

()()()

The rest of the night was blissfully uneventful, after the bursts of emotion over the past few days. Beth played, they watched TV (though Rachel didn’t really absorb it, not with his hand so close to her leg, not when she had to focus so hard on not shifting and pressing them together), and when it was time, Rachel changed Beth.

Will made dinner for the toddler, finding chicken nuggets in the freezer, and they ate the leftover take away from the night before. Rachel avoided heavy conversation with him, and they bathed Beth before they all settled on Shelby’s bed like they’d done the night before.

Everything had been so routine, and comfortable, despite their lack of practice, and Rachel wondered if that meant something. When he pressed his back against the headboard, she sat a little closer to him, Beth sitting on both of their thighs as he read the story to them. Will’s left arm rested awkwardly on his lap next to Beth’s leg, and Rachel thought, if things were different, that he would have put his arm around her. When he glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, she wondered if he wanted to anyway.

The story had gotten Beth sleepy, in her clean pink onesie, but she wasn’t asleep yet. “You should sing, tonight,” Will suggested, and she liked it, their trading of responsibility. She had to admit that his voice was pleasing, even if he wasn’t as trained as she was, but he was  _asking_  her to sing, and she wouldn’t pass that up.

Rachel cleared her throat and looked down at Beth, her little sister drowsy, half on her lap. An image of a discovered cassette tape crossed Rachel’s mind and she began to hum.

“ _I dreamed a dream in time gone by, when hope was high and life worth living_ ,” she began, her eyes a little misty. The song choice was an acknowledgement to Beth, private and just for Rachel as the significance of their mother’s song remained her knowledge alone.

“ _I dreamed that love would never die, I dreamed that God would be forgiving,_ ” she sang to Beth, a promise of sorts. “ _Then I was young and unafraid, and dreams were made and used and wasted.”_  Her breath caught a little as she thought about her relationship with Shelby, all starts and stops and hesitation.

 _“There was no ransom to be paid, no song unsung, no wine untasted. But the tigers come at night, with their voices soft as thunder, as they tear your hope apart, as they turn your dream to shame.”_ Rachel looked down at Beth, now asleep, her skin so pink and soft, and she ran a finger over her chubby cheek. Beth was so vulnerable, so innocent. Rachel promised, despite the complications with Shelby, the pain she felt around her, that she would be there for Beth—she loved her sister, even after these few days together.

 _“And still I dream she’ll come to me, that we will live the years together.”_ Her whole life Rachel had wanted a mother, wanted the feeling Ms. Olsen had given her that day in first grade, her arms gentle and soft and forgiving. When Shelby had shown up she’d thought  _this was it, finally_.

 _“But there are dreams that cannot be, and there are storms we cannot weather.”_ Except it hadn’t worked out and she would have to learn to accept that. But she’d wanted a sibling her whole life, too, and this _was_  working. It was working so well, just her and Beth and Will, and she didn’t have to give this up, not really.

Of course it wouldn’t be easy, with her in Lima, and Beth in New York and Shelby still not wanting her. But Shelby couldn’t stop her from caring for Beth, from trying to protect her and letting her know she’d always be there. It wasn’t too much to ask, it wasn’t.

Beth was limp between Will’s leg and hers, but the song wasn’t finished, and she needed it to be before she could walk away. Will lifted Beth onto his lap, almost silently, and she wondered how he knew that she needed this, needed to finish.

Rachel could feel his eyes on her head as she sang down at the little girl, soft as she could despite the urge to belt it out, “ _I had a dream my life would be, so different from this hell I’m living, so different now from what it seems, now life has killed the dream, I dreamed.”_

It had been taxing, staying so quiet, and the rush of blood she felt in her head was sudden. Quickly she felt her cheeks, the fear rising that she’d started to cry during the song, only to find her skin dry.

“Rach?” His free hand, not holding Beth against him slid under her chin, lifted her face up to look at him. His face was open, almost in awe, and it didn’t make sense because he’d seen her sing a thousand times before.

He was searching her eyes like he wanted to say something, and then his gaze slipped down, lower, and she licked her lips on instinct. She could feel his breath, suddenly, and the puff of air tickled her bottom lip. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she could feel herself lean into him, lean forward.

With her eyes close she could only hear his intake of breath and gulp, before his skin dropped from her chin and he leaned away. She felt the bed dip as he slid off of the edge and by the time she opened her eyes, blinked around the spots, he was disappearing into Beth’s room.


	8. Chapter 8

Rachel knew she was stalling, but she needed this, needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Will had left the bedroom almost five minutes ago, and was certainly back in the living room by now.  _Unless he’s stalling, too_.

Leaning her head back against the headboard with a dull thud, she ran her hands over her face and bit her lip.

He was going to  _kiss_  her. It hadn’t been her imagination, not this time. All of the touches, the strange looks since Thursday, they might have started out as something else, but Rachel  _knew_  that he had been about to kiss her.

The feeling of his thumb brushing so gently against her chin brought a smile to her face, and her cheeks flushed at the memory. He’d been so gentle, so hesitant, so sweet.

 _God_ , she wanted to kiss him.

Slowly, Rachel slid to the edge of the bed and dropped her legs over the side, and with a deep sigh she stood up, rounded the doorway and padded slowly down the hall. As she passed Beth’s room she looked in, and her eyes widened when she saw him still in there, leaning over Beth’s crib.

So he  _was_  stalling, just like her. It worried her, a little, and she stepped into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Things had been so  _nice_  these past few days, as far as their relationship, and she didn’t want that to change.  _Desperately_ , she didn’t want that to change.

As she sunk the tea bag into the hot mug, a noise caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder, saw him there, hands in his pockets as his socked feet pressed hard into the floor. “Rachel, I—“

“I’m going to do some laundry, do you need anything washed? Beth spilt syrup on herself yesterday, and I would hate for Shelby to come home to that. I’m also out of clean clothes, since I only packed enough for through today, and I imagine it’s the same for you.”

It was out in a rush and her eyes widened. Whatever he’d been about to say she didn’t want to hear. Rachel wanted everything to stay the same, the domesticity, the comfortableness, the sense of  _family_. And his words would only complicate things, she knew. His rejection was imminent, even though she knew, now, that he  _wanted_  her, even a little.

He was startled, but, she thought, a little relieved, and he dropped his shoulders before he went to his duffel bag. “I, uh, yeah, that would be great.” He pulled out a pair of jeans and a few t-shirts, and,  _oh_ , a few pairs of boxers.

He looked down and folded the jeans over, covered the thin blue material as he handed the pile to her with an uncomfortable grin. She noticed he was careful to avoid touching her, and it stung but, in a way she was relieved. If they touched again, now, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

Rachel nodded at him and headed into Shelby’s room, grabbed a laundry basket from the floor. Dumping his clothes into the basket she went to her own duffel and pulled out a few shirts, a skirt, her sleep shorts. She hesitated but added in a few bras and panties, and with a blush remembered the pair she’d had to put in her purse. Rachel dug them out and added to the pile, flipping her shirt over the top before heading out of the room and into Beth’s nursery. Silently she picked up the clothes the little girl had worn the past few days and added them into the mix, before heading back into the hallway.

Earlier she’d seen laundry detergent and fabric softener in the hall closet, and she made a quick stop to grab the bottles and add them to the round basket sitting on her hip. Will was moving in the kitchen to her left, and she realized how restless he looked.

Rachel froze in front of the door and turned to him. “Did you see where the laundry room is?”

Will looked back and nodded. His eyes met hers but they wouldn’t settle, like he was trying to look at all of her face at once. “It’s just across the hall.”

With a nod she was out the door and in front of another, the basket slipping from her hip. Rachel pressed it against her more and walked over to an empty washing machine. The rectangular room wasn’t large, but held five washing machines lined up against the wall across from her, and the wall with the door held eight dryers, two stacked on top of each other in a double row of four. By the door was a long table, for folding laundry.

The washers were front loading and Rachel dropped her basket on top of one before bending down and opening the door. Shaking the hair from her eyes she reached into the basket and pulled out Beth’s tiny clothes first. There weren’t many she’d dirtied and the small pile looked miniscule in comparison to the large machine.

Next she tossed in her tops and skirt, as well as the bras and panties underneath. Rachel hesitated, looking at his folded jeans, before flipping one leg back to reveal the center of the stack, topped with blue boxers.

With a tentative hand she picked them up and set them on her own undergarments, smiling a little at the sight of such intimate artifacts together. It felt appropriate after how much closer they’d grown since Thursday, and she could feel a wistful smile on her lips as she added his shirts and jeans in.

When she stood back up straight she caught sight of the quarter slots, and realized she’d forgotten her purse. She poured the detergent in and hesitated before the fabric softener. With a shrug she decided he could deal with his clothes smelling a little girly, just for however long they had left.

The doctors had put Shelby’s recovery soon, and Rachel couldn’t help but feel like a clock was ticking, counting them down. Fabric softener back in the basket with the detergent she headed back, out of the room and into the unlocked apartment.

When the door clicked he looked over the edge of the couch at her, his lips quirked downward in the hint of a frown. She thought about telling him what she was back for, but realized she didn’t need to explain, not everything, and walked into Shelby’s room quickly to grab quarters from her purse before heading right back into the laundry room, not looking at Will as she passed.

It felt childish, almost, that she didn’t want to look at him. But he looked so regretful, like he wished he could take it  _all_  back, and she couldn’t look at him like that. It would break her heart.

She started the washer and leaned back against it, the gentle rumbling easing her into thought. That clock was still ticking, reminding her that “playing house,” as she’d told Finn, was coming to an end. The swing of the pendulum was only part of it, though, and she thought about his regret, saw his frown as the clock chimed in her ears.

With a deep breath she pushed away, went back to the door that led out, back to the apartment. She couldn’t avoid him forever. Didn’t want to,  _really_.

When she pushed the apartment door open he looked over again, but this time his eyes were softer, though still tinged with something else, something revealing, almost. “Everything alright?” And he was asking about the laundry so she just smiled a little and nodded, before getting a glass of water and sitting back on the couch.

She was just so  _thirsty_. He was watching a sports channel, announcers talking about a final score for some sport she knew nothing about. As she drained the glass she wondered if he watched sports often. If he’d missed games to help her take care of Beth.

 _Help take care of Beth_ , played in her head and she thought back to what she’d told him Thursday, how she’d pushed him to leave her alone, that she didn’t need his help. Rachel thought about telling him she’d been wrong, that she was so,  _so_  glad he was there with her.

It was more than she wanted to reveal to him, of course, right after his painful departure from the bedroom. But if he was regretting it all, he needed to be reminded, told that he had been needed. She couldn’t stand him thinking it was all for nothing, not after he was there for her the whole time, holding her hand even though she didn’t think she’d needed it when she very much had.

Her glass, now empty, rested in her hand and she looked at it when she told him, “Thank you, Will. For being here for Beth, for helping me.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes yet, so she heard his gulp more than saw it before, “You would have been fine on your own, you know.”

The glass made a dull clink as she set it down on the wooden table and looked up at him. “No, I really wouldn’t have. I mean it, Will. I’m glad you were here with me.” His eyes were cloudy, and she couldn’t read them, not even a little bit.

She was picking at her fingers, her hair falling around her as she looked down. His hand twitched on his own leg and she thought, had they not been so close to whatever they were so close to, that he would have held her hand again. Squeezed her fingers and whispered her name softly.

Instead he handed her the remote, told her to turn to whatever she wanted. She just set it down beside them and watched ESPN, her mind drifting back to the ever-present clock. Her head was starting to thrum and her throat was dry again so she stood up and refilled her glass.

Will was watching her when she sat back down, and she felt her face flush a little. She drank from the cup and thought about what it would be like once she was back home, in her room, bored. What it would be like to go back to being a teenager, pining fruitlessly for Finn or Puck or whoever when she knew what it was like, being domestic, being a family.

A playback of a homerun played on the screen, and Rachel glanced over to watch his reaction. Her breath caught as she realized he was looking at her, not the TV, was glancing down at the near empty glass.

His brows crinkled and his lips tightened. She could swear she saw him make a small fist before he let out a breath and turned back to the screen, avoiding her eyes.

She’d told him, she suddenly remembered, about water, her strange connection between thirst and sadness. Rachel’s own brow furrowed as she tried to decipher is recent reaction to her thirst, figure out why he seemed so upset, angry, even.

They both sat there, an uncomfortable silence between them, until Rachel stood up to change the laundry around. She gave him no explanation as she stood and walked out the door. When she pushed into the laundry room she noticed that none of the other washing machines had been used, or the dryers, and she realized that it  _was_  a Saturday in New York, and if she wasn’t home with a baby she might want to be out in the city, too.

Glancing at the timer on the machine she realized she had almost five minutes left to wait before she could move the clothes into the dryer. But she was fine standing there, away from Will. All of the reflection on Beth and leaving had created a sick pull in her stomach, leaving her almost nauseous. But the thought of leaving Will, of him becoming just Mr. Schuester again was the worse.

She’d already resigned herself to leaving Beth, as painful as the thought was, but at least she had a connection there—she was and always would be her sister, no matter what happened with Shelby. But Will, they’d slipped so easily into more than a student and a teacher, and she wondered if it would be just as easy to slip back.

Except, at least for her, it wasn’t out of nowhere—she’d thought of him as more than her teacher, their director forever. It wasn’t romantic to begin with, not really, but it had been something other than she’d felt for any other teacher before. She couldn’t pinpoint when he became more, when the whole club had become more, a family. Staying with Beth had been even more of that feeling, that closeness to him.

The timer on the washer finally went off and it sounded like more ticking in her ears. Slowly she leaned down and opened the door, before reaching in and scooping up an armful of bra and jeans and onesie. The door clicked and she looked over her shoulder.

Will was standing in front of the door with Beth’s baby monitor in his hand before he set it on the table by the door. She blushed, thinking of what she’d been musing on, and gave him a small smile before standing with the first small armful. Realizing she’d have to make two trips she walked over to one of the bottom row dryers and opened it, before dropping the clothes in.

“Rachel?” She walked back to the washer and picked out the rest, before letting the door to the washer close quietly. “Are you OK?”

“Of course,” and it was a lie, but she wanted to be an actress so she might as well start now. There were a lot of ideas and images and phrases floating through her mind, from anxious to nervous to something a little softer than both of those, but OK was not in the mix.

She moved back toward the dryers, but before she could lean down his hand shot out, grabbed her forearm gently, his fingers curling next to their clothes. “I’m sorry, about—“

She knew what he was going to apologize for, the almost-kiss, and she shook her head, stopping him. “No, it’s not that. It’s just,” she sighed but he didn’t drop her arm. “What’s going to happen?” She meant to Beth, to Shelby, to them. The question was too broad and she knew he couldn’t answer it. She suddenly felt absolutely sixteen, despite all of the responsibility, all of the maturity she’d felt she had been showing.

His words had a false start and he closed his mouth, dropping her forearm. “Shelby,” he tried again, “will be fine.”  _Beth will be hers again and we’ll drive ten hours back to Lima_ , was the unspoken rest and she nodded.

The wet clothes were getting heavy in her hands but she didn’t want to move. Looking him in the eye she whispered, as if saying it too loud would make it a real admission. “I don’t know how I’m going to leave.”

Her eyes darted across his face, from his green eyes down to his lips, parted as he breathed out. “Me neither, Rachel.” He shifted, swallowed, but didn’t look away or step back. “I know it’s terrible that I’m dreading Shelby waking up, but I’ve had a purpose these last few days.”

He shook his head and licked his lips before, finally, looking away. “April asked me to go with her, to Broadway. And I said no, because I had to take you guys to Nationals. Having something to work toward, a reason to stay in Lima…” Rachel winced, wanting to tell him that he  _did_  have a reason to stay, that he couldn’t leave them, not anymore.

Before she could he looked back at her and she felt the weight of their clothes in her arms once more. “I’d forgotten how much I wanted a family, but after being here, with,” he cleared his throat and she held her breath,  _knowing_ he was going to say Beth: “you…”

Her chest tightened and she let the breath out, her eyes wide. He hadn’t finished his sentence but it didn’t matter, she understood. Rachel’s arms slackened and his t-shirt slipped down to the floor. With a start she bent down to pick it up, to throw it in the dryer.

But he had the same idea, and when she reached for it she hit his hand instead. Her eyes shot up to his, almost right in front of her, and her fingers tightened on his hand as he looked down at her lips.

It was the moment in Shelby’s room again, but more, and she leaned forward, refused to let him leave again.

She felt the pressure of his fingers on her hand, tugging as his lips pressed against hers, and she sighed. His hand slid up from her hand as he stood up straight and brought her with him, trailing along her sweater to her shoulder, and pulled her closer, kissed her harder.

Her thoughts were reduced to  _him_ , and she let the wet clothes fall to the ground with a slap and she parted her lips slightly, felt him do the same as he took a second just to breathe against her. Neither opened their eyes, just stood there for a moment, open mouths pressed together as his fingers left marks through the sweater with the force of his grip.

It wasn’t unpleasant, rather the throb reminded her of what was happening, and she slid her hands to his chest, over his muscles and to his neck. She’d kissed him, she knew, and she wasn’t going to be the one to take the step, couldn’t deal with it if he said no.

The anticipation was killing her but she felt his other hand grip the nape of her neck and then he wasn’t breathing against her but  _breathing her_ , his lips closing around hers, his tongue grazing the soft skin. Rachel knew the noises she was making, the soft sighs and mewls and desperate groans were embarrassing, but then he started to make his own and she just fisted one hand in the collar of the t-shirt and pulled him closer.

Will’s hands slid down her back, let go of her arm to reach for her waist. His mouth broke from hers in a desperate gasp of air, and as she copied him she realized she was getting a little lightheaded. Their eyes met and he dropped down, kneeling to the ground as he focused his attention on putting the clothes in the dryer, finally.

He was breathing heavily and she was too, but they could both hear the click of the dryer door closing as he stood, ran his hands over his head. He wasn’t looking at her and the dryer door closing sounded like ticking and before she knew it she was whispering, “Will.”

He turned quickly toward the exit, and she looked down at the dryer, pressing the low heat button as she tried not cry, waiting for the click of the door again, signaling his final rejection.

It never came. Instead she heard a pained, “God, Rachel,” before his hand was cupping her jaw, turning her to look at him. He was scanning her face and she thought his own looked almost frantic as he closed his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed almost painfully and he whispered, “I can’t, I’m sorry,” but followed it with his mouth on hers once more.

Shocked, Rachel could barely close her eyes and part her lips for him, her hands reaching around him to dig into his back, pull him closer. He complied immediately and she felt her chest beating  _so hard_ , his nose nudging her cheek, and she smiled against his mouth.

The air was thick around them and she could feel herself getting dizzy with it all. She slid her hands up his chest, circling his neck as she’d done earlier that day during their hug, and stumbled back, just a little. She realized he must have taken her movement as a signal and walked her backwards, not breaking from her mouth until she felt her back hit against the row of washers on the wall.

Finally she felt herself slowing, pulling her mouth back as she licked her lips of his taste, before she looked him in the eyes. They were deep green, emerald almost, and she breathed heavily at the sight before he brought his hand to her collarbone. Her skin felt thin and delicate under his strong hand and she bit her lip, watching as he looked down at his skin against hers, before he ducked his head to press a wet kiss there.

“Will,” she sighed, her fingers in his hair as she arched her back from the machine. His tongue was tracing patterns over her collarbone when she felt his arm brush her ass quickly, before he scooped her up easily and set her on the machine.

She knew she was light, of course, thin and short—petite. But she’d never imagined he could lift her so effortlessly, and she smiled up at the ceiling softly, her eyes fluttering closed as his mouth landed at the edge of the cardigan, where the v dipped to show the littlest sliver of cami.

Rachel felt his hands slide down to her lower back and waist again, and she wondered if he was going to unbutton it, knew he wanted to. With a gentle tug she brought his face back to hers, level, and she stared at his lips, redder than they’d been. She dragged her hand from his hair to his cheek, cupping it as she ran her thumb over his bottom lip.

His eyes widened and for a second she thought it was over, that he was realizing what was happening and he was freaking out. But he just breathed shallowly and brought a hand to cover hers on his cheek. Rachel couldn’t help but notice how small she was in comparison to him, even sitting on the dryer. Her head still came to his neck.

Will puckered his lips slowly, kissing her swiping thumb, before pulling her hand away and kissing her palm. Watching her eyes he softened his own, and she smiled back at him. “Rachel, we shouldn’t do this. We’re just, it’s because we’re both watching Beth, and—“

She shook her head and tugged at his shirt until he stepped forward, into her space. Rachel’s thighs fell apart and he was suddenly bracketed by her knees, her hands low on his waist. “That might be some of it, but,” she gulped, nervous, “you’ve been so happy, I’ve been so happy.”

His palms hesitated over her thighs until his Adam’s apple bobbed and he set them down. His skin on her sensitive legs felt amazing, and she closed her eyes automatically, her head falling back and her lips falling open again.

“I have, Rach,” was said into her mouth, his tongue dashing along her full bottom lip before he kissed away, over to her ear. The pressure against the shell of her ear was a new sensation and her knees slackened, her thighs parting as his hands started to drift up her legs.

When his fingers skirted the hem he hesitated, let his mouth drop as he held his breath. “Yes, Will,” she nodded, her hands dropping to his forearms. “Please,” her lashes fluttered open slowly, and she looked down at her lap.

Moving slowly, he let his fingertips pass the bottom of her skirt and drag along the tops of her thighs until he reached the edge of the boyshorts. Rachel’s legs were shaking, slightly, anticipation and taut arousal singing in her veins.

He pressed a kiss against her ear before he pulled back, looked down at his hands underneath her black skirt and swallowed harshly. Rachel could feel his fingers tightening on her panties, but he shook his head slightly and met her eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” and she couldn’t help but nod, just a little.

“I know,” and he closed her eyes but didn’t pull back. She gripped his forearms tighter, whispered, “Please,” again, and then, “I want this.” His eyes finally opened and she felt her chest tighten as she said, slowly, “I want  _you_ , Will.”

“God damn it,” he shut his eyes again and it sent a flare of hurt through her. But then he was looking at her again, and pulling at the panties under his hands. “Lift up, Rach,” and she did, raising her hips so he could slide them down to her knees.

It hadn’t been what she wanted, not  _I want you, too_ , but she could almost believe that his gentle words and nickname carried the same meaning. Everything was moving so slowly, as she brushed her thumbs over his arms and he hesitated before trailing his fingers closer to her center.

When his thumb brushed her clit she let out a little mewling gasp, her mouth dropping open as her eyes fluttered shut. A shuddering breath ghosted across her face and an expletive dropped from his tongue as his fingers dipped between her lips, her skin slick from him, his ministrations, his presence over the past few days.

Rachel could feel the muscles twitching beneath the skin of his forearm and she tensed, clenched down on the long finger he’d slid inside her. Her eyes flew open to meet his, barely any distance between them. The eyes she’d seen as emerald were even darker, focused as they were on her eyes, her face, her mouth.

Her fingers pressed hard against his arms and then she let go, slid them up to cup his head and draw him forward. He tasted sweet, and she thought about the cookies he’d shared with her earlier. Will’s tongue was ghosting over her bottom lip, his teeth nipping almost imperceptibly against the plump flesh, as though he was trying to goad her into something.

She just shook her head and pulled her lips back, her hands sliding down his chest frantically to rest on his belt. Rachel pulled him forward, her thighs bracketing his hips tighter as her palm rested against the outline of his cock under his jeans.

“Jesus, Rachel,” his forehead rested against hers, his breath hot on her cheek as his fingers stilled. With a choked gasp he sped up his actions, her walls clenching as his thumb rubbed tight circles against her clit. The sound was heady, as though she’d forcefully drawn it from him, as though he was consumed with want. It was the most erotic sound she’d ever heard.

His lips were pressed tight against her shoulder now, as she reached between them and tugged at his belt until it fell open, and she wasted no time in unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down, just a little.

Gray boxers were the only thing stopping her now from touching him, holding him in her hand. Rachel’s hand stilled as she bit her lip, her eyes open. He was still breathing hotly against her shoulder, his fingers paused as his other hand rested on her wrist.

“Rach,” his gasp broke the sudden stillness of the room as she hesitated, her fingers on the waistband of his shorts. “We, we can stop,” she sucked in a breath, “we should stop.”

“I don’t think I can, Will,” and then he looked up at her face, his own open and startled, and she could just look down before tugging at the boxers until they were over his hips and his cock was free, hard between them.

Rachel took slow breaths until she felt his fingers move inside her again, stroking her walls. She wanted this,  _needed_  this even, but she felt so inexperienced then, with him. She’d made out with Puck (which had been frantic, but, for the most part, over the clothes), and Jesse (he’d gotten her out of her top and under her skirt, but only once or twice) and, of course, Finn (which had been a lot of nothing until the end, but even then she’d barely made it into his jeans before things were over).

But this was different. There was an expectation (on both of their parts) of  _more_ ; this wasn’t going to end with Will pushing her hand away and looking at her shyly.

Will slid his fingers back, until only his thumb remained in contact with her slick flesh. “Hey,” and he kissed her, gently, sweetly. “I think,” and she stopped listening because his thumb was pulling back, now, too.

Her reservations all stemmed from her not wanting to embarrass herself, and if he pulled back now, changed his mind about them, it would be a humiliation she couldn’t stomach. “Will, please, just,” and she kissed him, more forcefully than he’d done, and, with questing fingers, circled his cock.

His lips tightened against her and she pulled back, watched as his eyes squeezed tight, her wrist moving beneath his hand slowly, his skin hot and hard beneath hers. “Oh, Rachel, mmm,” and he devolved into incoherent sounds, his fingers circling her wrist as she picked up the pace, gathering the moisture from the tip of his cock.

“Will, is,” she was watching his face, her eyes wide as she tried to gauge his reaction, “is this OK?” He opened his eyes then, smiled at her and nodded, before slipping two fingers back into her and pressing his thumb to her clit with a little more pressure.

“Yes, God, I can’t,” and instead of trying to explain he just kissed her, stepping closer into her. His movements beneath her skirt were building and hers were, too, as they both fused their mouths together, breathing harshly in between kisses.

“Will, I think, oh,” her thighs were starting to quiver a little and they fell open more as her hips shifted forward, put his hand in as much contact with her as she could.

“Me too, Rach, it’s OK,” he finished his words into her collarbone as he let go of her wrist and pulled at her waist, his tongue stroking over the curve of her neck. The pressure was mounting, gathering low in her stomach and she could feel his fingers lose their rhythm against her as hers started to jerk, her own rhythm faltering.

Embarrassing sharp gasps were falling from her lips but she couldn’t find it in her to mind as she felt him, all around her, safe in his embrace. There, she fell apart, unraveled at the thought that he was there to catch her, and her grip tightened on his shaft, the pressure finally bubbling over.

Rachel could feel his fingers between her walls as she clenched down involuntarily, felt his breath against her neck and a sharp grunt as he stilled, too. When she opened her eyes she smiled shyly, and caught sight of the thick fluid on her wrist.

Laying her wrist gently against her parted thigh she looked back up at him, her other hand coming to rest on his heaving chest. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she just pressed her fingers against his shirt as he pulled his own hand back and his mouth away from her neck.

“Rachel,” he sighed, and she thought that, even though he was the experienced one, he might not know what to say now, either. So much had happened between them over the past few days, she’d shared so much with him that this just felt like one more thing. But it was more, of course, much more. Because now he’d shared with her, too; this was both of them, admitting mutual feelings, which was intimacy of a completely different kind.

Despite all of this, when he met her eyes they were heavy but soft, and when her lips quirked in the question of a smile he matched her. She watched him as he reached for her panties, still across her lower thighs, and pulled them back up before grabbing her by the waist and helping her off of the washing machine.

Still unsure of how, exactly to respond, she stood there a moment, his hands on her waist still and hers at her side. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before tugging on her hand and leading her out of the room and back to the apartment, grabbing the baby monitor from the table on the way.

Once back in the apartment, Rachel hesitated, his hand still holding hers, before saying, “I’ll be right back,” and heading down the hall into the bathroom. She looked up at the mirror once she’d closed the door, and her eyes widened at her mussed hair and flushed face.

With a smile she felt her shoulders relax a little, still in the afterglow of what had happened in the laundry room. It had been amazing, touching him, having him touch her. Will had been so sweet and gentle, but also so passionate, and she felt a blush cross her cheeks as she looked down at the evidence of that passion on her wrist.

She turned the tap on and washed her hands slowly, thinking. Rachel didn’t regret a moment of what had just happened—she’d gotten to know him better than she’d ever imagined she would over the past few days, and she trusted him completely. However, she felt her smile ease as she thought about what he was thinking in the living room.

He was her teacher, when it came down to it, despite whatever they were for the weekend. And as such, she knew there were a lot of issues he could be concerned about, issues that he could be thinking over out there at that very moment.

Rachel closed her eyes and prayed that when she opened the door again he wouldn’t push her away, at least. If he was going to reject her now, after everything they’d felt, she hoped he’d be able to stay with her. They’d become such a family, her and Will and Beth, and she wasn’t done yet.

Taking a deep breath she opened the door, and ducked her head around the frame before stepping down the hallway. He was leaned against the back of the couch, his arms crossed in front of him and his jeans re-buttoned.

When he heard her in the hallway he looked up, a little startled with a nervous furrow of his brows. Rachel tried to stay expressionless, let him make the first move before she put her foot in her mouth. But she always wore her heart on her sleeve, and as she stepped into the small entryway, by the couch, she glanced at his hair, mussed from her fingers, and a smile bubbled out of her.

He must have been holding his breath, because after she smiled he let out a rushed low chuckle, and his shoulders fell. When his arms dropped to his side she took it as an invitation, an admission that he didn’t feel guarded around her, and walked up to him.

“That felt,” she murmured, blushing a little as she stepped in front of him and his hands automatically rested on her hips, “amazing.” He was looking down at her with heavy-lidded eyes and a small smile. After a second his smile faltered, just a little, and she rested her own hands on his chest.

Her eyes were downcast when she continued. “I know,” she tilted her head a little, “that this can’t be,” she didn’t know how to finish the sentence, didn’t know what it was now, but she knew it couldn’t last. Still, “But, just for now, OK?” He looked hesitant, but the fingers that pressed into her lower back told her it wasn’t hesitation for continuing whatever this was, but the end that would eventually come.

She watched the conflict play across his features, his lips pursing, his brows furrowing and his eyes searching hers. Will’s fingers tightened on her waist and tugged her forward, barely. Still, she knew what it meant and she broke into a wide grin, sliding her hand up his chest to his neck, so she could tug his lips down to hers.

He met her mouth and slipped his tongue across her bottom lip as she gasped, still smiling. He pulled back briefly, and watched her as he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ears. “Just for now?” He was confirming, asking permission and she wondered if he was thinking about how hard this would all be once Shelby woke up.

With a nod she took his hand and sat down on the couch, pulling him down next to her. Rachel immediately reached for the hem of his t-shirt, pulling up, but his hands caught hers and pulled her toward him. “You are so beautiful, Rachel.”

Her face flushed red and she looked down, startled by his sudden compliment. “Oh, thank you,” and she had no idea what to say. No one had ever said that to her, like this. Finn’s words in the choir room had meant so much to her, but she’d had over a year of relationship with him before that and he’d  _never_  said those words, even when she so desperately asked for reassurance. It had taken her threatening plastic surgery to get him to say she was beautiful.

And now, without any prompting, Will was offering her just what she wanted, needed. His fingers cupped her chin as they’d done in Shelby’s room less than two hours ago. “Rachel,” he leaned forward and kissed her slowly, languidly, as if nothing else tasted as good as her lips.

Finally he pulled back, pulled her closer, though it was a little awkward on the couch, and her hands flew up to his hair. He started to lean her back, her head coming to rest on the arm of the chair as he smiled at her and murmured, “Absolutely gorgeous,” before capturing her mouth in another kiss.

Breaking away from her finally he reached for her chest, slowly unbuttoning the cardigan until it hung open at her sides. Rachel watched his face as he slipped the sweater off of her arms and let it drop to the ground, before turning back and kissing the hollow of her collarbone.

Her hands scrambled for the hem of his shirt, tugging impatiently as she sighed, “Will, that feels so good,” and felt him smile against her skin. When he leaned away she mewled in protest, but he tugged at the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head before returning to kiss her once.

His fingers drew her camisole up, gliding across the flat plane of her stomach as he tugged it over her head. She closed her eyes at the memory of the first night with Beth, how he’d touched her then, and it had sent shivers up her spine. It was better, now that she could feel his skin directly on hers, and she reached for his belt as she’d done earlier.

It was easier, now, and once she’d gotten it open she pushed at his hips, pushing it down to his knees. Will was hard, again, and it all felt like so much more this time, in the comfort of their make-shift home. A breath caught in her chest as she leaned forward and circled him again.

He let her for a moment, his eyes closing as he thrust shallowly into her fist. She watched, eyes wide as his fingers fisted in the couch cushion beneath them, before his eyes opened and he smiled lazily at her. With a gentle nudge she removed her hand and he tugged at her skirt until it hit the floor with her sweater.

Leaning over her again he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, a gentle smile quirking his lips to one side. She tensed, then, as he loosened the material across her chest. “Rachel? Did I hurt you?” He was pulling back to look at her and she didn’t know how to respond. Rachel knew she had a small chest, was teased about it and overheard rude comments all the time, and things were going so well, Will felt amazing, and she didn’t want to disappoint him, not now.

“I,” she met his eyes, saw the obvious concern for her, the care, and her worry melted. “Touch me, Will,” and he did, pulling the straps down slowly as he kissed her shoulder, her neck. The bra landed on top of the rest of her clothes and she felt the cool air of the apartment spread across her chest, her nipples hardening even more.

Her breath caught and she waited for him to pull back, to look at her. When he did, she bit her lip before her lips parted as she out a long sigh as his tongue circled a nipple before taking her breast into his mouth.

While his mouth was occupied his other hand applied similar ministrations to her other nipple, and she dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his back, her thighs parting on the couch for him to rest between.

Will finally pulled back and reached for her panties, dragging them down but off this time, and pushed his own pants and boxers down to the floor to follow.

He was amazing, more than she’d pictured as she took in the obvious abdominal muscles, the broad stretch of his shoulders, the lean but solid weight of his arms. He’d never seemed so obviously masculine to her before, and she thought it made sense—if he didn’t cover himself with button-ups and faded jeans and those borings ties no one at McKinley would be able to get anything done. Her included.

She realized she’d been staring for a while, and looked back up at his face a little guilty. He seemed to be nervous at her appraisal, and she couldn’t help but wonder  _why_ , why would he ever question anything when he looked like that.

But he’d been thoughtful and told her what she’d needed to hear. With small hands she tugged at the hard cut of his hips, until he leaned forward, covering her. His arms were bracketing her head and his legs were inside of hers, thighs pressing against thighs.

Rachel looped her arms over his neck and scanned his face, swallowing as she formed her words. One hand dropped away from the other and she rested it gently on his slightly stubbly cheek. “With you I feel safe, Will,” and it felt a little cheesy once the words were out there.

But he gulped and licked his lips, and she thought again about how he needed to hear things sometimes, just like her. The press of his mouth was hard, a little desperate, and she realized it tasted like a thank you, as much as an agreement with her words.

He pulled back quickly, reaching over the edge of the couch for his jeans. He fumbled around, out of her view a moment before coming back up with a condom. Rachel watched, her eyes heavy as he opened the package and rolled the latex down on himself, before dropping the foil down to the floor and pulling her forward, her head down onto the couch cushion.

His face leaned down as he shifted to brace his arms by her head, mindful of the long brown hair that splayed out around her. With a final stroke of her hair away from her face, he asked, “Are you sure about this, Rachel?”

“I feel safe, Will,” before he kissed her, reaching down between their warm bodies to dip his fingers into her once more. She knew he’d find her slick, from the orgasm in the laundry room and his heated kisses and touches on the couch.

“God, Rach, you’re so wet,” and it was different from what he’d said to her, cruder but it shot a jolt straight to her core at his words. She moaned in response and he shifted, his hand reaching down for his cock, to guide himself in.

Being stretched there was strange, a feeling she wasn’t expecting at all, but she thought about everything she’d read about the subject back when she’d agreed to sleep with Jesse, and took deep breaths to relax her muscles.

Her breath was caught as he buried himself halfway and paused, her eyes shut tight at the pain she feared was coming. “Rachel? God, have you done this before?” His tone was tentative, in awe, and she couldn’t lie to him, not now.

“No, never.” She worried he was going to pull back, tell her they shouldn’t do this, so her eyes flew open and she pleaded with him. “You make me feel so safe, Will, it feels so good.” She pressed her hands against his warm chest, his muscles shifting beneath her fingers as he kept himself from thrusting forward, deeper into her.

He sighed, shaking his head, his eyes still open. “OK,” he repeated, “OK, Rach,” and leaned all of his weight onto his right arm, his other taking her right hand in his left and tangling their fingers together. “Relax, and squeeze if I hurt you, all right?”

She smiled and nodded, and took more calming breaths to relax herself. “Are you ready, honey?” The endearment he’d only whispered once before was hypnotizing and she nodded.

When he shifted forward, his hard hips coming close to hers, she winced, just a little, but made sure not to squeeze his hand. It didn’t really hurt, not much anyway, and she didn’t want him to feel guilty. He stayed where he was, letting her adjust, and once she’d calmed down again she squeezed his hand and whispered, “Move, Will, please.”

He did as she asked, but moved slowly, though Rachel could tell it was requiring a lot of concentration, based on his flushed cheeks and stiff back muscles. With fluttering lashes she looked at him, saw the worried concentration of his eyes, and dug her fingers into his back.

Rachel felt something building, the new sensations of these nerve endings causing her to bit her lip and shut her eyes tights. She started to roll her hips, to let him know that it was better, and he could move more, move closer.

“Baby, you feel,” and it was a new name, not honey, but she thought that she liked it just as much. His voice was taut and quivering, like he was holding back from telling her so much. Her legs squeezed tighter around him and he jerked forward, burying himself deep.

“Oh!” She tilted her head back and felt warm lips and breath against her chest, his tongue dipping into the hollow at the base of her throat as his hand tightened around hers. The pressure was mounting, she could feel herself nearing her second peak of the day, but she wasn’t quite there.

Rachel angled her hips, trying to create some friction on her clit, and gasped when she finally made contact. Her arms looped his neck again, held him close to her, and the feeling of being in his arms, him buried inside her, was leaving her breathless.

With her head tilted back she started to make more noises, breathy little moans she wasn’t even aware she could make, until he broke away from her throat to press their tongues together. He devoured her mouth as if he was trying to swallow all of those sounds, and as the pressure started to bubble over she bit down on his lip.

Before she could apologize she was coming undone, her legs tightening, her walls contracting and her eyes pressing closed so tightly she saw those same spots, fireworks as before.

Will stiffened in her arms, she registered, before his arms slacked, and his hand became lax in her own. One arm still braced him up, though the muscle was quivering and she could tell he was trying so hard not to crush her.

“It’s OK,” she repeated his words in a murmur, eyes open but barely as she came down. Rachel dropped his hand and pressed on his back, telling him to relax on top of her.

He listened, and he lowered himself until he was pressed against her completely. She didn’t mind the weight of him, not exactly, and the skin on skin felt indescribable in the post-orgasmic haze.

Will’s face was pressed into her neck, again, and she sighed, stroking his back and hair gently. She didn’t want to move, ever, really, but she had to get laundry, so she whispered down, into his ear, “I have to go get the laundry, Will.”

She could feel him nod into her skin before placing a kiss there and pulling back reluctantly and taking care of the condom as she stood, slipped on her skirt and cami.

After grabbing the empty laundry basket she walked across the hall, and into the other room. She felt fluid, right now, as though there were no bones left in her body, but she managed to focus enough to pull open the dryer door and take the clothes out.

She folded it all slowly, his shirts, her panties, Beth’s pajamas. It all looked so  _right_ , the three of them together, and she felt her chest tighten. Rachel knew it was going to be harder than ever, now, to go back to McKinley and study pre-calculus and care about senior prom, when she’d had such a taste of what the future could be, what  _her_  future could be.

Will had been so gentle with her, and considerate, and it had been incredible, being with him like that. They were living in a delicate fantasy, of course, playing house as she’d said to Finn. But now it was deeper, more complete, and she couldn’t help but relish the next few days, being with him.

It was hard for her to think about Shelby waking up—she wanted it, desperately, of course, and every day she went without waking worried Rachel. But now, more than just Beth, she had her own little family until Shelby woke up, and the contradiction of her desires was leaving her dizzy.

When Shelby woke up everything would be over, but her mother would be healthy, hopefully. Rachel thought about Jesse, and their relationship, though, and added another layer to her confusing feelings. When Shelby was better, she would have to confront her mother, tell her she knew, ask her how Shelby could do such a thing, be with a man that hurt her daughter so much.

_But she’s my mom._

The thought wouldn’t leave her head, no matter how angry she felt. Shelby was still her mother, a mother that decided she didn’t want Rachel  _twice_ , and as unhealthy as she knew it was, Rachel still desperately wanted her love, her respect.

As much as Rachel wanted this fantasy—her and Will and Beth, just a family spending the weekend together—she wanted another, too; Rachel wanted Shelby to wake up and find out how Rachel had swooped in and taken care of her sister, like a good daughter, despite great personal cost. She wanted to watch as Shelby’s lips quivered, her brow furrowing as she realized what it was that she had refused when she’d refused Rachel.

She wanted her mother to beg to be in her life again. Of course she would say yes—Shelby was what she wanted most her whole life, to be  _wanted_  and  _loved_ , no matter what. A mother was supposed to give you unconditional love, but meeting Shelby had only proven to the girl that love was conditional no matter what, and that even her own mother would rather not be in her life.

The laundry was folded and in the basket on the ground, but Rachel’s head was swimming, so she leaned back against the now closed dryer and wrapped her arms around her stomach.

Thinking about Shelby was painful, and she wanted to stop, to be back in Will’s arms where she felt safe. Rachel closed her eyes, thinking about how he’d held her after Jesse had called. In his arms she’d been able to relax, to not worry about everything coming up. She realized that it was his presence, as well as Beth’s need and affection for her, that had kept her together through everything; Shelby’s coma, Jesse’s phone call, but mostly as she worked through her feelings about Shelby.

With a sigh Rachel pushed off of the dryers and picked up the basket, settling it on her hip like she held Beth. Rachel had been gone for a while, and she didn’t want Will to start to doubt their agreement of the weekend, or for him to think that she was.

As she pushed the door open and went into the apartment, she wondered what, exactly, this was for him. The apartment door closed and she locked it, setting the laundry basket on the counter in the kitchen. Will was wearing his boxers and his t-shirt, sitting on the arm of the couch with his arms crossed.

He was looking down, and Rachel wondered if he was trying to figure out the same question. They’d spoken, over the past few days, about how important it was for him to have a family. She knew that Terri hadn’t been much of a wife, at least not in the way he seemed to want, and Ms. Pillsbury’s visit had made it clear that children were not going to be a definite in her future.

Rachel wondered where that left her. She wasn’t a viable option, of course. Being together felt great, amazing, but she wouldn’t delude herself into thinking that they could actually work as a relationship. They were only a family for the weekend, and Rachel would have to be fine with that.

Still, she wondered if he saw her as a good partner, the way that she was seeing him.

He looked up at her after a moment, and smiled. “Thanks for doing the laundry. I, uh, needed some clean clothes.” Rachel grinned and stepped forward, reaching out her hand as she grabbed the baby monitor from the counter.

Will took it, their hands lacing together, and Rachel dragged him around the room, turning the lights off. She headed down the hallway, stopping at Beth’s door and entering the room. He stood beside her as they both watched the toddler, happy to find her fast asleep.

Will’s hand dropped from hers and she looked over at him, only to find him watching her. His fingers brushed her hair back from her shoulder and he placed a kiss there. She smiled, her breath catching at the press of his lips, and headed out of the room and into Shelby’s bedroom.

Rachel led him to the bed, pushed at his chest until he sat down on the edge (his side, she made sure of), and leaned down a little to kiss him. When she pulled back she smirked, “If we only get a few days, I want to make the most of it.”


	9. Chapter 9

When Rachel woke up it was still dark outside and the room was silent. With a glance to the nightstand she saw the baby monitor was there and on, and glanced to the alarm clock next to it: 5:14. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed into the warm sheets against her bare skin.

She rolled her head to the left and saw Will sleeping beside her, splayed out with his back facing her. A smile crossed her lips and she let out a silent sigh remembering the past few hours. After she got the laundry they’d gone to bed, both of them in the room, and he’d undressed her, spent almost another hour just holding and kissing her, lazily making love to her.

It had been rushed, in a way, as if they both needed to touch as much of the other as they could, as if they didn’t have enough time. With a gulp she remembered that they didn’t, that when Shelby woke up they would no longer be a family, the two of them and Beth.

They’d only been asleep for a few hours, but at the memories of the night before, the thought that they could be nearing the final hours, Rachel felt a warm thrill between her legs. She scooted closer to his warm back, bared to her, and placed her hand in the deep curve. Her fingers trailed up and down, and he shifted but didn’t wake.

She’d always known his back was beautiful, strong and purely masculine, even through the button up shirts. But now it was hers to look at, to touch, to taste. Rachel did just that, pressing an open mouth directly between his shoulder blades, and dragging her tongue across his salty skin.

His scent filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes, before kissing lazily along the expanse of skin. “Mmmm, baby,” he moaned, and she froze, suddenly terrified that he would mistake her for Ms. Pillsbury, for Terri in his sleep.

He didn’t move or say anything else, and, as much as she didn’t want to confirm her fears, she needed to know, more than anything, if there was a chance he was thinking of her. She slipped her hand under the sheet, to wrap around his stomach, feel the twitch of the muscles under her palm.

Will groaned and rolled onto his back, but his eyes didn’t open. Tentatively, she pulled the sheet down to his waist, a little lower, and started to kiss along his stomach, lower to the very edge of the slightly tented sheet.

“Rach, baby…” Her eyes flew up to his, her mouth still pressed hotly against his abs. A grin broke across her face as she realized he was still sleeping, was thinking about her. Not Ms. Pillsbury. Not his ex-wife.  _Her_.

Her cheeks flushing at the feelings it evoked in her she pulled the sheet down to his thighs, looked at the semi-hard cock in front of her and let the sheet drop down. A thrill went through her as she thought about what she was doing.

She’d never done this before, though Jesse had made some vague comments about it. He was smart enough to stop making them when she’d suddenly remember some Spanish homework each time.

This was new for her, but the idea was undeniably exciting. Rachel thought about how Will had spread her out on the bed just a few hours ago, how he’d licked and sucked and tasted her to her third orgasm of the night.

With a glance back up she saw his eyes still closed, and noticed that his legs had parted, just a little, under the covers. She remembered how much better she’d felt when Will had left her alone to change Beth, to not watch her do something she had no idea how to do, and smiled at the current set-up.

As much as she wanted to taste him, too, she couldn’t help but worry that she would do something wrong. Of course, when she’d done all of her research she’d looked into this, too, but it was an entirely different thing to be  _practicing_  what she’d read. With a shaky breath she lowered her head to the tip and breathed, slowly.

A moan dropped from his lips and his hips thrust upwards, slightly, though he was still asleep, she noted. Closing her eyes she dipped her head forward, her tongue snaking out to help her hand guide him into her mouth.

It was a strange sensation, though not unpleasant, and she stroked her tongue on the underside as she slid her head forward, taking more of him into her mouth. He groaned and she went a little further, until the head was nearing the back of her throat.

Rachel pulled him back out, her fist dragging along the rest of his shaft like she’d done in the laundry room, and smiled at the noises he was making. “Oh, God, baby,” he sounded breathy and the noise went straight to her core, her body pulsing.

She thought it was strange, how he called her baby like this but honey the rest of the time. But both names thrilled her, in a different way. When he called her honey she felt safe, and beautiful and warm, but when he called her baby, she felt sexy and desirable and  _hot_.

With a tighter grip she stroked him and he hardened more, beneath her flesh. Her tongue continued its path on his cock, her mouth surrounding him, and she worked on easing him back further, toward her throat experimentally.

His hand flew to her hair and his body stiffened. “Jesus, Rachel!” He gasped, and she knew, immediately, that he was awake. She pulled back a little and looked up at him, through her lashes.

With hooded eyes he looked down at her, his jaw tight and his fingers stroking through her hair. He was tugging, slightly, and she could tell he was trying not to thrust forward. Her hands rested on his hips and she looked back at him.

She felt brazen when he looked at her like that and she hollowed her cheeks, sucking him further into her mouth until she felt her lips nearing the base of his cock. “Rach, baby, fuck,” His breath was choked, like he almost couldn’t breathe, and she eased herself back.

His eyes were closed again but she knew there was no way he was asleep, and his fingers played with her hair, tucking it behind her ears and away from her face. “God, that feels so good,” and his barely contained groans fueled her on.

He was thick and hot in her mouth and she stroked the base of his shaft, felt his legs tighten. “Honey, stop, I’m gonna, oh God,” and she pulled back, stroked him. Watching as he came she felt another thrill and looked up at his face, his lips crooked into a contented smile.

Will had tasted strange in her mouth, not bad, and she bent forward again, until she could place a quick kiss to his stomach, where some of the milky fluid had landed. He was watching her when she leaned back, sitting, and rolled the taste of him in her mouth. It was different, she concluded, but smiled at the thought of it, the intimacy, more than anything.

His eyes were fully open, and when he opened his arms to her she laid back down, rested her head on his upper chest and her hand a little lower, as she curled into his side. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his lips pressed against her hair as his hand rested on top of hers.

The arm she was laying on was stroking her back, her hip, brushing her ass. “Same for you,” she smiled up at him with hooded eyes, her body still pulsing with the fire that coursed through her.

Her waist was small, and the hand on her back looped her hip, rested low on her stomach, and her eyes fluttered closed at the anticipation of how he would touch her.

Nothing happened for a long time, and she wondered if maybe he wasn’t going to touch her at all, until she felt two fingers trail along her slit. His fingers laced with hers quickly and squeezed, as he rushed out, “God, you’re practically dripping, baby.”

His words only made her hotter, made her legs part a little as he brushed over her clit, quickly. She felt his arm pull back from behind her quickly, and she was suddenly on the mattress, on the pillow. He didn’t drop her hand, just leaned on the other arm sideways, looking down at her.

Will brought her hand up beside her head, her side exposed to the cool night air, before unlacing his fingers and trailing his fingertips down her arm, her side, her hip. She thought of  _Dirty Dancing_ , of Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey (and “Baby,” of course), and was about to giggle until she looked up, saw the way his eyes focused on hers. The giggle died on her lips and realized she had never  _really_ understood that scene until right that moment

They stayed like that for a second, just staring at each other, until Will’s palm fell from her hip, his fingers brushing against her heat. Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact and her head tipped back, her lips parting in a silent gasp.

“Open your eyes, Rachel,” and she did, though it was a bit of a struggle. His were still trained on hers and she gasped, his fingers moving inside of her. His eyes were wide, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and she raised her fingers to his cheek, stroking gently as his fingers sped up against her clit.

“Will,” she moaned, and she couldn’t help it, her eyes closed again.

“Look at me, baby, keep looking.” She forced herself to do as he said, his directive adding another pulse to the tight circles he was making on her nerves, and he rewarded her with a kiss to her palm.

Their eyes were connected, not breaking contact again, and she thought it was the most intense moment she’d ever shared, the most erotic by far. “That’s right, Rach, you have such beautiful eyes,” he murmured, and she felt her hips rising to meet his hand.

“Will, please, I’m so close,” and she felt her eyes slipping closed again, fought to keep them open. He doubled his movement against her and she couldn’t help it, she tilted her head back, her eyes shutting as she fell over the edge, fell apart with him holding her to him.

She felt amazing, languid and sated as she registered his lips against her neck again, his tongue scraping gently at her skin. It was a little startling, how she wanted him to press down harder, to mark her neck, her skin. This weekend would be short, but if she could extend it a few days maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much, having a reminder that it was all real, that at least them,  _this_  was real.

“Harder, Will.” He kissed her neck harder, trailed up to her lips, and she sighed into his mouth. When he pulled back he was smiling, watching her face as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Please, Will,” she tilted her head back, just a little.

He tilted his head to the side a little and murmured, “What, honey? What do you want?” He kissed her again, before she could answer, and she felt her skin tingle.

“I’m yours, just for now.” He looked confused, a little nervous, and she took his free hand, the one that had brought her to her peak, and brushed it against the tender skin of her neck.

“Rachel, I don’t…” Will’s eyes were downcast but they flicked to her neck, his fingers pressing against her. She thought that he wanted to leave a mark just as bad as she did, and Rachel brushed her fingers over his.

The air was still for a moment as she waited for rejection, for him to pull back, for something.

She yelped, his teeth scraping roughly at her skin, the blood rushing to the surface. His head pulled back a little at her noise, but she just moaned and stroked his hair, his lips following his teeth as his tongue laved at the flesh. Rachel felt a rush as he pulled back, looked at the red skin before placing a little kiss to the surface, and then recaptured her mouth.

His kiss was gentle, the sweetest they’d shared, and she licked along his lips, his teeth, his tongue, lazily. When he finally pulled away he laid on his back, and she returned to her place curled into his side.

Rachel brought her hand to her neck, thought about the visible mark he’d surely left, and suppressed a smile. Everyone would know, now, that someone loved her. They’d leave New York, go back to their lives, but for a few days the world would have proof that she was loved, she was someone’s.

Her  _Finn_  necklace had been her favorite accessory, had meant more, even, than the gold necklace around her neck now. It had told everyone that she wasn’t alone, that someone did love her, and wanted to be with her. It reminded herself of that fact.

His fingers brushed against hers and she looked up at him, saw the wary look on his face. “Did I hurt you, Rachel?” She shook her head, taking his hand in hers, and rolled onto her back, her head on his chest looking at the ceiling. She brought their hands above them, and she watched the way they looked together, connected.

“Your fingers are so small,” he laughed, low, and she smiled up at him. His brows were furrowed, just slightly, and she brought their hands back down, rested them on her stomach.

“Yours are so strong,” she murmured back, and felt his other hand curl around her hip. A silent sigh followed her comment as she laced and unlaced their fingers a couple times. Rachel felt a stab of _something_ , something like guilt and worry and a little bit of fear.

Her brows furrowed and she licked her lips, swallowing as she let go of his hand, leaving it on her bare stomach. “Will,” and she wasn’t asking him anything, not really, just saying his names as his fingers stroked the flat skin beneath them, and she copied his movements across his knuckles, his long fingers.

“I told Finn we were playing house.”

The words hung heavy between them and his fingers halted. Rachel worried her bottom lip and set her hand on his, waiting. “Is that…” she felt his breath ghost across her hair, her cheek, and she pressed her lips together tightly.

His words halted for a moment, until she felt his palm turn upwards on her stomach, and he laced their fingers together again. She squeezed tightly and let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“I guess that’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?” He sounded sad but not hurt, so she looked up at him with a regretful smile. Her words had drawn attention to the temporary nature of their relationship, of his hand on her, their fingers together. But she knew, as he did, that ignoring it couldn’t make it disappear. She thought about her words to him the night before, how they had to make the most of it, and she sat up.

“You OK, Rach?” She was still holding his hand and she squeezed when his other hand brushed her hair off of her neck, trailed down her naked back. Her body was thrumming with anticipation and worry and desire as she turned to face him.

Her eyes were heavy when she looked at him, pulled on his hand until he sat up to match her. Will stared at her, watched her eyes dash across his, and cupped her cheek. It felt amazing, even the littlest touch, and she closed her eyes at the sudden overwhelming sense of safety.

“I don’t want to stop, Will.” It was too much, she was telling him too much when she knew that this would be over far too soon. But he just brushed his thumb over her jaw line until she looked at him again.

He looked pained, his mouth open slightly and his eyes full of worry. “I know we have to, I just—“

“I don’t either, Rachel.” And her breath caught as he pulled her forward, pressed his lips to hers so gently. His lips parted slowly and she copied him, her fingers tightening on his as she moved closer until she was kneeling by his hip.

The air was cool on her skin, exposed as she was in the dark bedroom, but her heart was racing and her blood was pumping as he dropped her hand and looped her waist, pulling her into his skin.

She was lost in his kiss but the thoughts were still floating in her mind of what was going to happen after this, how she was going to leave Beth, confront Shelby. The idea of both scared her but the jolt that topped them both came when she thought about doing it alone. Whatever this was could only last until Shelby was awake, and when she was Rachel wouldn’t just lose Beth, she’d lose Will.

The fear she felt at confronting Shelby alone was intense and she shivered in his arms. His lips left hers and he took her face in both of his hands. “C’mere, honey,” and he pulled her down to his chest, pulled the covers over her and him as they laid back down.

Her head was on his chest again but she needed to look at him, to watch him like this while she still could, so she rolled over, threw her leg over his hip and rested her forearms underneath her on his chest. “God, Rachel,” She could feel him stirring against her and his eyes fluttered shut as she rolled her hips gently.

“Please don’t leave McKinley, not yet.” His eyes fluttered open and he looked at her curiously, his hand resting on her leg across him beneath the sheet.

“What?” His voice was a soft laugh, but it sounded a little nervous, like she’d cracked some secret.

“You have dreams of being on Broadway, we all know it, and I can’t blame you, can’t ask you to give them up.” She shrugged a little and looked down at his mouth when his fingertips started stroking her upper thigh. “But we need you, Will. Glee, we can’t do it without you.”

The hand on her leg stilled. “I can’t do it without you, not anymore. I need you there, Will. Please, just don’t leave for a year.” He was hesitating, his breath soft between them despite the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“Please, Will, after Beth, and everything, I just—“

“I’m not going to leave glee, Rachel.” He met her eyes and his eyes were soft, almost calm and clear. He looked at rest, then, and she smiled. “I’m not going to leave you.”

That sense of safety flooded her quickly and she kissed him, both smiles baring teeth as a little intoxicated giggle slipped out of her. She knew what he meant, that he would stay their advisor until their graduation, that he wouldn’t leave them. But he also told her he wasn’t going to leave  _her_ , and in whatever capacity he meant, she was grateful. The idea that he would be there, even a little, warmed her, and she leaned into him more.

He wasn’t telling her that  _this_  could be more, she knew it couldn’t, he knew it couldn’t, but he was offering her something, and that little bit of hope flooded her chest as she wondered what, exactly, he was offering.

()()()

When Rachel woke again it was to gentle crying from the monitor. She was on her side, her back pressed firmly against Will’s chest, his arm around her waist. Slowly she slid forward, trying not to wake him, and set his arm on the bed where she’d been.

He groaned and flopped onto his stomach, his face pressed sideways against the pillow, and she took a moment to smile at the image he presented, sheet around his hips, hair curled and smashed from sleep, and his lips open against the pillow.

Rachel hurried to the door, grabbing the robe off of the back and slipping it on, before sneaking out of the room and down the hallway.

“Shh, Beth, you’re alright,” Rachel murmured, and picked the little girl out of the crib. She fussed in Rachel’s arms and she put her down on the changing table, removing her pajamas quickly to find her in need of a change.

“All better, Beth, honey,” she used the words Will had, in hopes that they’d calm Beth the same way, as she fastened the clean diaper and put Beth’s pajamas back on.

Movement at the door caught her eye and she turned to see Will, smirking at her, his arm against the door frame. He wore only boxers, and despite everything that had happened between them she felt her cheeks flush.

Beth was calming in her arms as she picked her up, her tiny fingers looping over the necklace chain and resting her head on Rachel’s shoulder. “’Morning,” He murmured, and she couldn’t help but smirk at how sexy he sounded.

“Good morning,” she smiled back, shy, as she ducked her head a little. She watched as he crossed the threshold, and neared her. He stopped right in front of her and bent to kiss Beth’s head. The small jolt of disappointment was short lived, as he moved his fingers to her cheek and tilted her head up, kissing her deeply.

Rachel blushed when he pulled back, but smiled at him as he slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her back to his chest. From her angle she could see as his right hand raised to stroke Beth’s head, and she imagined the soft smile on his face as he did so. Beth stared at him from Rachel’s chest and offered him jumbled language.

Will laughed and she did, too, until he started to press more kisses to her neck. Her breath caught and she closed her eyes, murmuring soft noises. His hand brushed her hair back, away from her shoulder, and he pulled the collar of the robe back a little.

His voice wavered as he asked, “Did I bite you too hard, Rach?” She just shook her head and he pressed a kiss to the tender skin. “How do you feel?”

She wasn’t sure if he meant physically or about their new, temporary relationship. “I feel sated,” she laughed, a little uncomfortable, as she realized that it sounded a little too brazen for daytime Rachel.

“Mmm,” he murmured against her ear, but ended in a low chuckle as Beth reached up and tugged at his curled hair. “Hey,” he mumbled and reached up to take Beth. Her tiny hands fell away and he stepped back, Rachel’s hands dropping to her side as he held Beth to his chest.

The jealousy she had become used to feeling when Beth was taken from her was almost non-existent in that moment, looking at Will smiling down at the little girl. He was scruffy, unshaven, and she smiled at the way he was tickling Beth’s stomach, the giggle she was giving him back. It was all so domestic in that moment, the culmination of how they’d been progressing as a family over the past few days, and she felt a dull throb in her head.

She  _really_  didn’t want to lose this, them, her new family. “What do you want for breakfast, Beth?” The toddler opened her mouth and spoke more, curling her fingers around Will’s ear as she watched his face. “Rach? Have any suggestions?”

He looked over at her and she shook her head quickly. “No, I don’t.” He smiled at her before kissing Beth’s head and setting her down. Once on the floor the toddler made her way out of the room, her steps taking her quickly out of view. “Beth…” she warned playfully before moving toward the doorway to go after her.

“Wait a minute,” Will murmured, his hand shooting out to encircle her wrist, as she’d done that first time she’d called him Will, tested out his name. He tugged on her as she looked over her shoulder and he pulled her to him. Still holding her wrist he bent forward, his other hand sneaking behind her neck and taking her lips in his, kissing her deeply.

Rachel sighed into his mouth, smiling as she thought about how this was what she wanted, this easiness, the way he could just kiss her when he wanted, kiss him when she wanted.

Her head was a little fuzzy when he pulled back, brushed her hair away and pressed another kiss to her forehead before heading out of the room. She was left standing there, her fingers coming up slowly to brush where his lips had, so gently on her forehead. Rachel had felt his lips countless times over the past few hours, but this had been sweeter, gentler than before. She’d grown accustomed (surprisingly quickly) to the passion of his mouth, his tongue, but hadn’t stopped so much to consider the lingering softness.

 _That’s exactly what it was_ , she realized. He’d been gentle and tender and so sweet with her, but here, just a second ago, had been pure softness, the warmest, most untainted moment they’d shared. She thought, if she was to label it, that kiss had been pure love.

With a quick intake of breath she felt her eyes sting as the thought was immediately followed by the ticking of a clock, the swing of a pendulum, and she walked out of the room.

Will had put Beth in her high chair, and was digging in the refrigerator when she stepped into the main area. “Would you like some help, Will?” He popped back up with a smile and shook his head.

“Nah, I can feed her.” He set Beth’s cup down in front of her and she took it, drinking. Will stepped back and ruffled her hair as her wide eyes stared up at him, before he scooted around the counter to stand in front of Rachel.

With a smirk Rachel crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I can feed her, you know. I was quite successful last night if you remember.” He laughed and tugged at her arms, opening her to him.

“Of course I remember. You were amazing,” he gave her a quick kiss and pulled her back to him, into a hug. It was the first hug they’d shared since the laundry room, since they’d become more intimate, and Rachel relaxed into his arms. They were so strong around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder, sighed into the skin there.

Fingers started to stroke at her hair, and she felt something brush harder against her head, wondered if he’d kissed her there, too. “But I can feed her and you can get dressed.” Rachel smiled against him and he tilted his head, whispered in her ear, “though I’d much rather you didn’t.”

Playfully she pushed back, pushed at his chest and tightened her robe. “Will,” she giggled, biting her lip before kissing him quickly. Pulling back before he could deepen the kiss she headed down the hall, grinning at the gentle groan she heard.

Rachel closed the door to the bathroom and slipped the robe off, hanging it on the back of the door, and turned to pull a towel down from the shelf. Her movements reflected in the mirror over the sink, and she set the terrycloth down on the counter to look at her reflection.

Her hair was mussed, more so than the usual bed head hair, her cheeks were still a little flushed, and there was an unmistakable red mark on her neck, by her collarbone. A shiver ran up her back as she brushed the mark, closed her eyes and remembered that they wouldn’t last for much longer, but she’d be able to keep it her own secret beyond then, just a little.

Will had loved her the night before, had touched her and held her and stroked her to climax with his fingers, his mouth. And he had buried his head in her shoulder, had left a physical reminder of what they had done, one for everyone to see, to show the world that he loved her, even a little, for that night, this weekend.

Rachel ran her hands over her arms, hugging herself a little at the smiled that had broken across her face, and turned to the shower to turn in on. The movement stretched her muscles, and as the water heated she focused on the ache between her thighs, the dull throb that served to remind her further what had happened.

She’d known it was foolish, being so active with muscles she’d never used, not like that, but the clock kept ticking and she figured she’d have all the time in the world to recuperate when it was over, when they were over.

Steam started to billow up from the porcelain tub and she stepped into the spray, her shoulders relaxing as the water ran over her stiff back. She floated through the shower, thinking about Will out in the kitchen, feeding the child in their shared care. With a wet hand she reached for her shower gel, sitting next to his on the ledge. Rachel washed herself slowly, remembering that everywhere she touched his hands had been, his fingers had stroked and his lips had kissed.

She didn’t want to erase him, not when there was no guarantee he could repeat his actions, and as she set her gel down she reached for his. Rachel popped open the lid and sniffed, inhaled the strong, safe smell of him, and squeezed the tiniest bit onto her wrist, washing the scent in to remind her, to calm her.

Humming, she shaved and washed her hair, and wondered, if Beth hadn’t been in need of watching, if he would have climbed into the shower with her, if he’d be doing this to her instead of her own fingers.

Finally clean she stepped out of the shower onto the bath mat, and toweled her hair dry, left it in thick strands over her shoulders and wrapped the towel around herself. She hadn’t brought her clothes in, hadn’t thought it necessary, not anymore, so she opened the door, stepped back into the cool hallway and padded down into the living room.

She’d left the laundry basket there, and as she reached for her clothes she caught Will turning around on the couch where he sat with Beth, watching some cartoon. With a smile she tugged her skirt and underwear and shirt free before leaving for Shelby’s room to change.

Halfway into the room she heard a noise, and turned to find him, leaning against the doorway. “Shower’s free,” she smirked, and dropped her clothes on the bed.

“Mmm,” he made a noise of false interest and stepped closer to her, the door partly closed, until she could feel the heat of him against her back. “You smell amazing, Rachel,” and then his hands were resting on her hips, pulling her back and nuzzling into her neck, her still-wet skin raising goosebumps at the sensation.

“God, Will,” and she reached her arm up, her hand resting behind her on his ruffled hair, her fingers curling against his skull at the press of his lips to her still-tender neck. His palms trailed down the cloth to the edges of the towel and pulled, the material slackening to bare her to the cool air of the apartment.

The towel fell to the carpet with a small thud of fabric, and his hands replaced it, cupping her breasts as he nuzzled further into her neck. “I can’t stop touching you, baby,” and he couldn’t, not judging by the quick migration of his fingertips, the way he snuck between her folds to find her wet, again.

“Don’t stop touching me, Will,” but he had to, now, later, it all had to come to an end. The door wasn’t closed, Beth was awake on the couch in need of dressing, and they had to go to the hospital, check on Shelby.

The thought brought Rachel back a bit and she rested her hand on his forearm, gripping a moment before she’d have to pull away. But he stepped closer to her and she could feel the hard press of him against her backside, could feel him as he ground closer, stroked her more firmly.

“Mmm, Will,” and she felt his low chuckle brush over her damp skin, smiled at the smirk she felt against her ear. She was getting closer as he circled her clit, stroked her slit and pushed against her, just a little, enough for her to feel the effect.

“It’s OK, baby, let go,” and her breath caught as he pressed down, a little less gently, and the sensations radiated outward as she came, her mouth open and her eyes closed. He was still hard against her, she could feel, but he just kissed her neck, her ear, and murmured, “You are so unbelievably gorgeous, Rachel,” before he let her go, swaying on her feet before she heard the click of the bathroom door.

Her cheeks were heated and she could feel the damp hair pressing to the light sheen of sweat she felt on the back of her neck. When her knees started to quiver, weakened from the rush of emotion, she sat down on the bed, and stepped slowly into the yellow cheeky panties, slipping them up to her thighs before she slid her bra on and reached behind her, her muscles loosened from the hot water and the liquidity of the afterglow.

Standing, she slid the blue and green flowered skirt on and the simple green v-neck shirt, tucking it in before she pulled her hair free and left the room. Passing by the bathroom door on her way to Beth, she flushed, wondered if he was thinking of her, touching himself to the image of her coming, him doing the same.

Rachel bit her lip and scurried into the living room, only to find Beth intently watching the show, holding that stuffed bunny close. A sigh passed her lips and she licked them as she went into the nursery to pick out a new outfit for the toddler.

Light purple overalls and a brown shirt, she decided, picking up a pair of white tennis shoes to go with and a pair of frilly white socks. “Beth, look at what you’re going to wear today. Won’t you look so cute?” Beth looked up, acknowledging her as she smiled to match Rachel, and tugged her bunny closer.

It was difficult to dress her around the stuffed animal and the TV, but she managed, and by the time she leaned back to watch the show with Beth on her lap, she heard the water turn off in the bathroom. That same image crossed her mind and she hugged Beth tighter, leaning back against Will’s side of the couch until the toddler rested her head on Rachel’s shoulder.

Will stepped out of the bathroom with just a towel, like her, but his was slung low on his lips, baring his muscular chest. She felt her gaze grow heated as she watched him reach into the basket, pull out boxers and jeans and a shirt, before her looked over at her with a mischievous smile. “Yes, Rachel?”

And it was wrong, then, that a thrill flooded her as she realized how much of a  _teacher_  he sounded like, then. But she realized that he would be her teacher after all of this, whether she liked it or not.

She lowered her head and looked up at him through her lashes, putting on her best innocent smile. “Nothing, Will,” and he just winked at her, turning to change in Shelby’s room. His back shifted, the muscles contracting as he moved out of her sight and she shifted her legs closer, squeezed as she remembered how his strong back had looked beneath her small fingers.

A few minutes later he came back into the living room dressed, holding her phone out. “I think you missed a call,” and he sounded strange, like there was something in his throat when he said it.

“Thanks,” she set Beth down beside her and stood, taking the girlish phone. “It’s my dads,” and she wished she hadn’t said it the moment she did. His face fell, the smile suddenly gone from his eyes, and she furrowed her own brows, circling the couch to walk into Shelby’s room.

The way Will had looked was too much, too sudden. It had been the look she’d been dreading, the acknowledgement that this weekend had been temporary, fleeting, despite her (or even his) wishes. With a shaking hand she brought the phone to her ear and listened to the message left.

“ _Rachel, sweetie, your dad and I are so sorry we couldn’t get your call! How are you doing? We’re both worried, and we hope you get this soon, can call us back. We left the cruise as soon as we got your message, but it’ll take us a few days to get back. Call us and we can explain more, Rachel. We’re worried about you, taking care of a baby. Mr. Schuester is still there with you? Rachel, please call us back soon. We love you._ ”

The phone clicked off and Rachel pulled the phone away, down to look at the screen. The call had come at seven, when she’d still been asleep in “Mr. Schuester’s” arms. The formal name of the man she’d come to feel so close to was startling, more so than her thoughts a second ago on the couch, and she wrapped her arms around her waist, missing his warmth.

Rachel dreaded calling her dads back, dreaded talking about anything that meant the end of this. Dreaded walking out there and telling  _Will_  that her dads were on their way home.  _Dreaded_  the look on his face when he processed that she was still a student, still had parents to report to.

A brief knock caused her to look up at that very man. His face was neutral, a little  _too_  neutral, and she took in the phone in his hand with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows. When she looked back at his face she closed her eyes, couldn’t watch him as he told her.

“Shelby’s awake, Rachel.” She nodded blindly, before opening her eyes and looking down at her hands, gripping her phone tightly.

“Is she—“

“She’s doing fine. She’s groggy, but not too out of it.” He hesitated a moment, “The nurse said she’s been asking about Beth, and that they told Shelby her daughters were together.”

“That’s, that’s good.” It wasn’t, not really. Not when Rachel just wanted the  _easiness_  of everything back. “I guess we should pack up, then.”

It wasn’t quite a statement or a question as it hung between them, just an acknowledgement of what they’d both rather ignore. Still, she looked up to see him nod, curtly, and turn to walk back into the living room.

Everything was silent, but at the same time she could hear Beth giggle and the loud sound effects of jumping cartoon characters beneath the reverberant chime of the clock between her ears.

She moved slowly, pushing her clothes quickly into her duffle bag, and gathering the other few remaining items from Shelby’s bedroom before leaving the area, ducking into the bathroom before she could see him packing, too.

Rachel shut the door and dropped her bag to the ground as she leaned back against the tile wall and covered her face. It wasn’t  _fair_. Her mother was awake and healthy, and she was happy, but it also meant she was free to feel the full punch of disappointment in her gut. She’d been expecting this, had tried to prepare herself, but they’d only had one night of this new relationship, this new level of intimacy.

And now, they were  _over_. With nervous eyes she peeked around the shower curtain and found his shower gel, his shampoo and conditioner, gone. The sink held no razor or hair product, nothing. Tears prickled at her eyes but she blinked them back, let out a huff and focused on packing, on not breaking down.

She’d promised him,  _promised_  him, and she would not take it back. They’d had their weekend (their far,  _far_  too short weekend), and now she would have to learn to deal with it. A wave of panic coursed through her at the pain so intense she thought she might vomit.

Rachel looked at the mirror, slung her bag over one shoulder and brought trembling fingers to her collarbone. Pulling her sweater back she looked at the hickey, at the way he’d left an imprint as proof. She pressed her fingers to the bruise quickly before covering it again and looking herself in the eye. “You can do this,” she murmured, before taking a breath and pulling the door open.

Stepping into the living room she saw Beth, still on the couch, but Will nowhere in the room. His bag was full, however, and sat by the door with their garment bags slung over the counter. Depositing her bag quickly by his, she headed down the hallway.

With a gasp she caught sight of him making Shelby’s bed, a pile of sheets by his feet at the floor. He was stripping away the evidence of that night, and even though she knew it wasn’t his intent (well, not for a personal reason), it hurt, to see their past crumpled in a ball on the floor.

She watched him a moment, watched his back muscles and the way his forearms moved as he worked intensely, focused. With a lick of her lips she stepped forward, and he looked over, met her eyes. He looked worried, scared almost, and he just cleared his throat and scooped up the sheets to deposit in the hamper. “Do you have her diaper bag?”

He wasn’t facing her as he asked, and in a way she was grateful. The words, like the past few days, were utter familial intimacy, and she shivered. “I’ll get it,” and she turned, ducked into Beth’s room to gather clean diapers and the bag.

“Thank you,” he murmured from the doorway, and she nodded, handed the bag to him when he held out his hand. “Are you ready, Rach?” It wasn’t honey, or baby, but it was still gentle and intimate, and left her chest aching in the best way.

“Yes,” she nodded, and offered him a smile, fake. It was alright, she reasoned. His was, too.

They headed out of the room and into the main area, and after she added the rest of her clothes from the laundry basket to her duffle, she told Will to grab Beth. The TV clicked off in the background as she looked at the basket, now holding only Beth’s clothes, signaling the disbanding of their family.

“I’ll take our bags,” he murmured, and held the toddler out to her. She was grateful, so grateful to have Beth in her arms, and she held her close. Beth just snuggled into her, resting her fist on Rachel’s necklace and mumbling into the collar of the sweater.

It was going to end, it was always going to end, but this wasn’t supposed to be it, not this soon. They were supposed to have more time, the three of them, more stories and songs and cuddling until Beth fell asleep between them. They were supposed to get to tuck her in together that night, make her lunch and take her to the park again.

They were supposed to get this, just a little longer.

Will cleared his throat and held the diaper bag out to her, and she took it, before grabbing her purse from the counter, too. “Let’s head out. They said she wouldn’t be released yet, but that she wanted to see Beth.”

Rachel nodded, not trusting her voice, and followed him out, closing and locking the apartment, their temporary home, for the last time. She led Will out of the hallway, opened the door, and she wished he hadn’t been carrying their bags, wished he could have touched her back like he’d started doing more and more.

She needed him, right then. Everything felt new and terrifying and she thought about all the things she was supposed to say to Shelby. Rachel just wanted him to hold her again.

Silence fell between them and they walked to Ms. Pillsbury’s car this time. Rachel slid into the backseat, not having a carseat for Beth, and Will said nothing as he put their luggage in the trunk and climbed into the driver’s seat to start the car.

Rachel’s arms were tight around the toddler, and the closer they got to the hospital the blurrier her vision grew. The silence should have helped her think, but her own thoughts were deafening and overlapping, and so she just held onto Beth tighter and buried her nose in the blonde hair loose on her head.

“I saw some parking down the block,” his voice broke the quiet, low in the bad acoustics of the car, and Rachel snorted at the memory of the last time he’d driven her. She was being forced to trade this for _that_ , for awkward moments in the choir room and longing glances she’d have to pretend were meant for some teenage boy. Meant for someone other than the man she’d let make love to her for the first time.

The car came to a stop too quickly and he killed the engine, stepped out and slammed the door harder than necessary, she thought. Before she could shift Beth to open her door he was there, doing it for her and reaching for the toddler.

She shared the little girl’s embrace, willingly let her go to him though it was killing her. It was killing him, too, she knew. Beth’s head looked over his shoulder as he extended his hand to Rachel, pulled her out with the diaper bag and her purse.

The rapid fire minutes slowed, suddenly, around them as he stood holding both of them. His hand was warm around hers and so, so strong, and the pressure eased a little in her chest as she reminded herself he was still there, even if it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t alone for this, not completely.

“Rachel,” he sighed, his eyes searching hers, and she let go of him to rest her hand on his chest, beside Beth’s back.

“I know, Will,” and she kissed him, slowly, as they stood in the small parking garage by his co-worker and kinda-ex-girlfriend’s car. His arm snuck around her waist, pulled her closer, and she sighed against his lips until she felt Beth playing with her hair.

With a small smile she pulled back and met his eyes, her chest throbbing but duller now, and saw him swallow hard and tilt his head to the side. “Beth,” he teased as he looked to the little girl at his side, still playing with her hair.

Rachel’s breath caught as she closed her eyes, absorbed this last moment, the ease of them all together, before gently untangling Beth’s hands and following as Will led them out of the garage to the street. Their walk was silent and she tried not to compare it to the leisurely stroll of the night before, but had to accept it wasn’t the same, wouldn’t be.

“Are you ready?” he asked as they stood in front of the doors to the hospital.

“I…” he stared forward but reached down and took her hand, squeezed it a little. “Yes.”

In the elevator he passed Beth into her arms and slid his now free hand to the small of her back. He led her out at the third floor, and guided her toward room 306 as Beth spoke into her chest.

A nurse exited the room, the door open behind her, and all the sounds around her faded as she saw Shelby, sitting up against the angled bed, awake. They were standing at the corner of the room, mostly out of view of the door, and Will flagged the nurse over.

“Excuse me, we’re here for Shelby Corcoran. They told us she had woken up. Is she doing all right?” Rachel knew he could see Shelby, too, that the nurse who’d called him had told him these things. He was stalling, she realized, but she was grateful to have this last moment, to hold Beth to her.

This nurse was older than the one they’d met the previous days, but her face was kind and open, and she smiled at the family before her. “She’s doing very well. Are you her family?” Will looked to Rachel, and she nodded.

“We’re her daughters.” Will stayed silent this time, made no comment about his relationship, and she was grateful. “Is she going to be able to come home soon?”

The nurse smiled down at Beth and spoke, softly. “The doctors are checking her out still, but there doesn’t seem to be any lasting damage, and her brain didn’t swell at all, so that’s a really good sign. Of course, they’ll probably want to keep her overnight, just to be sure, but everything is looking really good.”

After a pause, the nurse added, “She’s been asking about Beth since she woke up a few hours ago.” She looked between Will and Rachel and asked, “She’ll have to have someone stay with her, of course, to make sure that nothing goes wrong once she leaves, will that be a problem?”

Rachel shook her head quickly, and when she looked to Will she saw that he was doing the same. “That’s great. Someone will be back soon, to check in on her again,” she patted Rachel’s arm and left, then, heading into another room.

Rachel started to walk toward Shelby’s room, but Will’s hand on her forearm stopped her. Reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face, he said, “Rachel, if—“

“It’s time, Will.” Whatever he’d been about to offer she knew couldn’t be, not anymore. It was time for her to talk to her mother, to return Beth, to let Will go. Her head pounded and she remembered that she didn’t have to be all right with it.

At the doorframe his fingers pressed quickly against her before they fell, dropped down to his side. He wasn’t leaving her, she knew, just protecting the both of them from true assumptions, and she wished the knowledge made her feel less sick.

Trained on her face, Rachel caught Shelby’s reaction to the sight of her biological and adopted daughters together before her. “Rachel.” She sounded a little shocked, her eyes wide, and Rachel tried not to reveal too much in her own wide eyes.

Her mother was partially sitting up in the bed, her color back but she had bruises on her chin, her arms, her hair limp around her. Those were not the lustrous locks she’d inherited, but despite the obvious trauma Shelby had been through she was still absolutely gorgeous, the effortless air of sophistication thick even now.

Beth was squirming in her arms and she looked down at the toddler, furrowed her brows as she reached her arms out to her real mother. “Bethy!” Shelby’s nervous face broke into a wide grin and Rachel felt a jolt of anger at the way her mother lit up, looked even more gorgeous at the mere sight of her wanted child.

Rachel had no choice but to walk over to Shelby, to hand the little girl off to her. She barely reached the edge of the bed before the two were reunited, and Beth curled into her mother. With a staggering step back Rachel reached her place at Will’s side, and looked up at him. He was trained on the reunion, too, and she tried to remember that this was painful for all of them.

“How are you doing?” It was the least loaded question she could ask, and she could see Shelby relax a little.

“I’m fine, I think.” Shelby offered a smile but they were the same in so many ways, including their fake grins. It hurt more than the truth would have, Rachel mused. “Thank you, for watching Beth. Both of you,” Shelby wasn’t meeting either of their eyes, and she’d expected as much for herself but her aversion to Will was curious.

“She’s lovely.” It was an understatement, of course. Rachel had grown to truly love Beth in just a few days—lovely was one of many adjectives she could use in that moment. Shelby focused on the toddler in her arms, holding each other close, and Rachel’s fingers twitched.

There were so many things to say, too many, and Rachel wasn’t sure where to start. All of the comments floating across her mind were jamming each other up until the one that leaked through was: “Jesse called.”

 _Finally_  her mother looked at her, but it was brief and then she was trained on Beth, again. “Oh?” Shelby was a good actress but her ability was weak at the moment, understandably, Rachel reasoned. “What did he want?”

Rachel’s eye twitched. Her mother was fishing, trying to figure out how much Rachel knew about the two of them, if Jesse had told her anything. And that,  _that_  helped her sort out her thoughts a little. “He wanted to apologize for something. I heard him on the answering machine but we didn’t talk.” Shelby looked a little relieved and the fire in Rachel’s veins got hotter. “What was he apologizing for?”

The relief her mother had shown was replaced with another, worried look, and Rachel felt a jolt of pride at her ability to call her out. “Surely it couldn’t have been for egging your daughter’s face over a year ago, could it?” The anger that had been hiding beneath the worry and nerves was beginning to surface at her mother’s avoidance.

Shelby’s eyes narrowed and she looked down at Beth, stroked the blonde hair resting against her chest. “Rachel, you have to—“

“ _No_ , you have to listen to me.” Will’s hand brushed against her back and she looked up quickly. His eyes were trained on Shelby but he was leaning toward Rachel, was touching her. She couldn’t tell, exactly, if he was urging her on or trying to remind her to keep it in a little, but she thought she saw the same fire in his eyes as her own.

Still, Rachel’s comment died on her lips, and Shelby spoke up. “Rachel, Jesse and I have been together for a while, but I had no idea—“ Will’s hand dropped suddenly from her back but she couldn’t focus on it, not at the same time she tried to sort out what that meant.

How long had they been together? It was upsetting on many levels, and Rachel had to close her eyes and clench her jaw to let it settle. It was hypocritical, she knew, to get to upsetting about her mother’s affair after sleeping with Will for the first time less than twelve hours ago.  _Like mother, like daughter_ , she thought with a scoff.

The knowledge was building in her belly, but at the same time she was calming, as she thought about her mother and her student, together after high school. Had they really been together for so long, their relationship surviving stigma and age difference and every other issue that she’d given the smallest thought to over the past day?

It was hard to focus on remaining angry and hurt at the same time that she wanted to soak in her mother’s words, use them as a bit of hope for the still-confusing relationship forming between herself and Will.

Beth’s mumbling into Shelby’s shirt drew her attention back, and she narrowed her eyes at the way Shelby was looking at Beth, the way she was holding her tiny fingers in her own. Shelby was looking at Beth softly, but her eyebrows were furrowed and Rachel caught a glance at her out of the corner of Shelby’s eye.

Will was beside her but not touching her, and she realized that she had to be alone for this. He was there for her, had promised he wouldn’t leave her, but despite the two extra sets of eyes, Rachel knew this was it, this was just her and Shelby. She took a small step forward, less than an arm away from Will but feet from Shelby’s bed.

She was tapping into that anger and frustration and hurt, but it was all so much that she had to take a few breaths, concentrate on the woman before her. Her fingers clenched into fists and she crossed her arms in front of her as she focused on keeping her voice calm, even. Rachel felt too many things, but the words in her head were forming, and she realized that she didn’t want to scream or cry or do anything but let her mother know what she was losing.

“You missed out, Shelby.” The older brunette looked away from Beth to Rachel, her eyes pained. Rachel didn’t stop, just spoke low and slow as she tried to figure out where she was going. “I wanted a mother, a mom. I wanted you to be my mom.”

Shelby wasn’t looking at her, but Rachel caught the flicker of hurt across her face, and couldn’t help the small voice that said  _good_. “I listened to the tape you gave me when I was born, and I listened to you sing for Vocal Adrenaline, and I thought, finally, I would get what I wanted.

“I thought I would get to fall into your arms and hug you and I thought you would hug me back. I thought you would realize the mistake you’d made by giving me up, and beg my forgiveness, try to take it back.” Rachel’s jaw clenched and she swallowed, her hands coming to cling to each other in front of her.

“Rachel…” Shelby wasn’t looking at her still, but she also wasn’t looking at Beth. She was staring down, at nothing, so Rachel ignored her plea and continued what she had to say.

“I wanted you to love me, Shelby. And I tried, so hard, to not push you, to let you discover what you gave up sixteen years ago, but you wouldn’t. And I can’t wait for you any more, OK? It hurts too much. I want you to love me, and I want you to want me to be your family.”

Rachel looked over at Will quickly, saw him watching her, and met his eyes before looking down. “But you can’t always get what you want.” He shifted in his spot a few feet from her and the lack of body heat hurt, too.

“I was ready to forgive you for letting me go back then, because you were young and you didn’t know who I was yet.” Rachel looked back up to her and found Shelby’s eyes,  _finally_ , and she felt the tears sting as her nose flared with the pressure to breathe. Shelby’s own eyes reflected hurt but Rachel just shook her head, thought about everything her mother had put her through and stayed steadfast.

“But I cannot forgive you for not caring now. You laughed with me and made me a dress, and then you turned around the next day and decided to let me go.” Tears had started to fall, slowly, but Rachel’s voice only wavered once, her tone not rising over the soft tone she’d been speaking in. “You decided to date and stay with a boy that had hurt me so badly, had humiliated me and lied to me for no reason, and I cannot forgive you for that. For being able to dismiss me so easily.

“And that’s where you lose. Because I love you so much, even now, and you don’t even realize how much love I have to give.” Rachel looked down at Beth, the little girl’s fingers curled over her mother’s necklace, and Rachel smiled, softly, sadly. “You want her, her unconditional love.

“If you had given me a chance you would have seen that I was offering you the same, mom.”

Rachel’s wet smile quivered and she looked to Will, saw him watching her nervously, the hand farthest from her in his pocket, but the fingers of the hand at his side twitching, as though he was waiting to touch her, at the ready for the moment she broke.

The implications of that, on top of the effort she’d expended to remain calm, to not lose it left Rachel’s throat dry, and she bit her lip before mumbling an  _excuse me_ and ducking out of the room. Once around the corner of the too white room, Rachel leaned back against the wall and covered her face with her hands.

Her lips were quivering and she was having difficulty breathing around her shaking hands, but the hospital lights were too bright. “Rachel,” his voice was sweet and worried, and she finally mustered the strength to drop her hands and look at him.

His hands were out in front of him, hovering but not touching, and all that effort to stop herself from breaking left her. “Just a little longer, please be Will for just a little longer,” she was shaking her head and swallowing down the dryness.

He hesitated and it just about killed her. But then he took a shuddering breath and pulled her to him. His strength was so welcome then, and she buried her head in his chest, her hands beneath her as he held her small back and pressed his own face into the top of her head.

Words were drifting against her skin but she couldn’t catch them, so she imagined he was saying he wasn’t going to leave her, not now, not ever, as he called her honey. When he pressed an unmistakable kiss to her temple she wondered if she wasn’t making it all up.

It had been minutes of just standing there in his arms, and Rachel decided she needed a drink badly enough to leave his warm, safe embrace. “Rach?” He questioned and she just smiled up at him weakly, before letting her hands drop from his chest slowly and brushing past him to the drinking fountain.

Her eyes closed at the blissfully cool water, different from the days before, and she squeezed them tighter when she felt him standing so close to her, stroking her hair, her back, her neck.

Standing up was painful, as she turned to face the door to room 306. “We can leave whenever you want, Rachel.”

“Not yet,” she murmured, and headed back into the room. Shelby was smiling wetly at Beth, her eyes downcast as she stroked the tiny girl’s face. Rachel suddenly felt guilty for everything she’d said, no matter how true it all was.

There was silence as the four occupied the small room, and Rachel grappled with what she still had to say. “Do you need to be changed?” Shelby asked the toddler, quietly.

“Rachel, why don’t you take her?” Will gestured to the diaper bag across her shoulder with a small smile and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. The movement was little but grounded her, and she nodded before stepping tentatively toward Shelby,

Neither woman spoke as Shelby hesitated before passing the child over to her temporary caretaker. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured, and scurried out of the room. Her head was swimming but Beth was on her hip again and that was all that mattered, all she needed.

The walk to the bathroom was long, the building foreign to her, but Rachel didn’t mind taking her time, not when she recalled all the things she’d said to Shelby.

A bathroom came into sight and Rachel ducked through the doorway, grateful to find it empty. With a quick hand the changing table came down, and Rachel sat the girl on the edge.

Big green eyes stared up at her, and Rachel sighed with a small smile. “It’s still not your fault, Beth, that she loves you.” Rachel undressed the toddler and started to change her diaper. “I just want to know why she can’t love me, too.”

Beth offered her jumbled words and Rachel gave a small laugh, quickly wiping at the tear on her cheek with the back of her hand. “I guess you’re right,” and she finished up cleaning her before putting on a new diaper.

Re-dressed and clean, Rachel perched the toddler on the counter of the sink after closing the changing table, and looked down at her. “I love you so much, Beth, because that’s what sisters do.” Her eyes narrowed and she swallowed. “And even if I’m not there with you, I will never stop loving you.”

The little girl reached out to Rachel and she lifted her, gave her little sister a hug for a long moment, until the door to the bathroom opened. The woman smiled at Rachel and she offered a weak one in return, before setting Beth back down on the counter and washing her hands quickly.

After scooping Beth into her arms she left the bathroom, and stood over to the side of the hallway, the toddler’s small fingers at their place on her necklace. The hallways were fairly empty, and as Rachel headed back to the room she started to hum, sing softly against Beth’s hair. “ _All you have to do is call my name, and I’ll be there, on the next train_.”

Rounding the corner to the room she froze outside the door, hearing voices, and she stopped singing.

“I wasn’t trying to h—“

“I told you, Shelby, I told you not to start something, that if you loved her you wouldn’t—“

“I do love her, Will, of course I love her.” Rachel sucked in a breath, her head throbbing at the words coming from Shelby, and wished she could see her, wished Shelby had said that to her face.

“How can you say that and date the boy that broke her heart? Your  _student_?”

Rachel could feel Beth looking up at her but Rachel could only shake her head at the words he’d just said. The way he said “student,” what did it mean for her, for them? They’d agreed to the temporary relationship, but when he’d held her in the hallway just minutes ago she’d thought it meant more, meant that maybe he couldn’t switch back and forth.

“My  _student_? Like you’re—“

Rachel closed her eyes and stepped forward, rounded the corner into the room. As much as she wanted to know what Will was going to say she couldn’t stand to hear Shelby talk about Jesse, defend their relationship.

“Here you go,” Rachel murmured, not looking at Will as she stepped closer to Shelby’s bed and passed the toddler off.

“Thank you, Rachel.” Shelby looked guilty but Rachel stood her ground, refused to take back anything she’d said earlier. After a moment she looked over her shoulder at Will, saw him standing with his arms crossed, his jaw tight as he watched Shelby.

“Is anyone coming here for you, for Beth?” Shelby met Rachel’s eyes this time, though her lips twitched.

“Yes, someone’s coming.” Rachel waited, needed to hear her say it and confirm the truth she dreaded.

“Jesse?”

“He left a message on my cell, too. I called him a little bit before you arrived.” Rachel wrapped her arms around herself and nodded.

“The nurse said someone should stay with you. Do you need us to—“

Shelby looked pained, wincing a little as she furrowed her brow. “I appreciate what you did, but I can’t—We’ll be fine. Thank you both.”

Rachel hesitated, thinking about leaving Beth alone with Jesse and Shelby, after the latter had just been in a car accident. But Shelby was Beth’s mother, not her, and she couldn’t push her, not when they had no real relationship in the first place.

“We better go, then. We have a long trip ahead of us.” Will spoke from the middle of the room, gently, as though he was asking Rachel permission.

“You’re right,” and she thought about the deep red mark on her neck, the way he said student a moment ago, and what it all meant. The only thing she was certain of in that moment was the toddler sitting in her mother’s lap, and Rachel took the chair next to Shelby’s bed.

“I want to be in her life.” Shelby closed her eyes, and Rachel barreled on. “I’ve wanted a sister my entire life, and I can’t lose her now.” As Shelby looked up at her, Rachel brushed her fingers over the gold star at her neck, before undoing the chain.

Holding it out to Shelby, she spoke softly. “Give this to her, tell her it’s from her big sister, and that I will be there whenever she needs me.”

Shelby didn’t look down, just met Rachel’s eyes. “Rachel, I can’t—“

“Please, tell her it’s from her sister.” Shelby’s eyes flickered down, then, and she let out a rushed breath.

“Where did you get that?” Rachel lifted the charm with her free hand and smiled sadly.

“My dads gave it to me for my tenth—“

“Birthday.” Rachel looked up at her, nodded. “Keep it, Rachel.”

Her curiosity piqued, Rachel’s eyes widened and she prodded, “Why? Wha—“

“I gave that to your dads to give you when you were old enough.” Rachel’s mouth dropped open and she tilted her head.

“Why would you give me this?”

“Gold stars are my thing, Rachel. I let you go because I had dreams of being a star, not because I didn’t want you.” Shelby held Beth’s back, kept her upright, but her eyes were trained on Rachel. They flickered, like she was struggling, before she added, “I’ve made mistakes, Rachel, and I am so sorry that I hurt you. But I do love you, you have to know that, right?”

She didn’t, not really, but how else could she respond to that, when her mother was looking at her like Rachel was driving a knife into her chest. “I will never forgive myself for giving you away, but it hurts too much to look at your beautiful face and know that I have missed  _so much_  that I can never get back.”

Shelby reached out her free hand and cupped Rachel’s cheek, her palm cool and dry, and Rachel couldn’t help but lean into the soft skin. Rachel watched as the other woman looked over at Will, and Rachel felt a small blush as she realized he’d seen it all, everything between mother and daughter. “You were wrong, I’m not strong.” Her gaze held his for a moment before she looked back at Rachel, and pressed her palm harder against her face, her jaw tight as she said, “But you are  _so_  strong, Rachel, and I wish I had something to do with that.”

She closed her eyes and let go of Rachel, brought her hands back to cradle Beth to her, and whispered, “I’m not strong, Rachel, so I need you to know that I tried.” Their eyes met again and Shelby asked, “Do you know how long ago I started teaching at Carmel?”

Rachel shook her head. She’d avoided doing all research on Shelby after their reunion. Not only had she wanted her mother to tell her, but she was too afraid of what she’d learn when she did look. “I moved back to Ohio six years ago, and I looked at every little girl, looking for a gold star necklace. I wanted to find you so much.”

Shelby had started to cry now, silent tears streaking down her face, and Rachel felt her chest throb as she reached for her mother’s hand, took it with less hesitation than a few days earlier. It would be an uphill battle to see her sister, and Rachel swallowed hard. “Then you understand why I need Beth to have it, now. I want to be in her life,” she repeated.

“I can’t, Rachel, it hurts too much.”

Rachel looked over at Will, standing in the room, and met his sympathetic eyes. “I need you to do this for me, Shelby.”

Finally she felt the chain slide from her hands, and Shelby tightened her hand into a fist around the metal. “Thank you,” Rachel murmured, before standing and turning to Will. His eyes were focused on Beth, and she turned back to Shelby. “Can we have a minute to say goodbye to Beth?”

Shelby nodded, but didn’t meet her eyes as Rachel took the toddler in her arms and into the hallway. Out of sight of Shelby, Rachel pressed a kiss to Beth’s hair and smiled. “Beth, Will and I need to go away for a while, OK?” The little girl looked between them, and Will reached out, took the toddler into his arms.

As he hugged the little girl he looked at Rachel, his own eyes red. “You are so strong, you know that?” She shrugged lightly, but when he held out the arm not holding Beth, she practically fell against him.

The three stood there, hugging, and Rachel rested her head on his chest as they both stared at the innocent faced child between them. Rachel hadn’t forgotten the way he’d talked about Jesse and Shelby, but back in his arms she felt nothing like his student, but like his friend, his lover, his partner.

“We should get going,” he murmured, and she knew he didn’t want to leave any more than she did.

“Yeah,” and she pulled back, let him lead the way to Shelby’s side to pass her daughter back. Shelby was staring down at her hands, but when they came back in she offered a concerned smile. “Goodbye, Shelby,” Rachel said, and leaned down to wrap her arms around her mother for the second time.

It felt different than before, a little less hollow, and she pulled back with a crinkle of her brow. “Goodbye, Beth,” she waved at the little girl, and Will came to stand next to her.

“Here are you keys, Shelby,” Will handed her the small keyring, the last link they had to their temporary life, and it filled her chest with an intense pressure as she sucked in breath. With a last look to her mother and sister she turned, walked to the door.

There was a pause and then Will joined her, standing outside of the door, before he turned toward the elevator. Silently he set his hand purposefully on her back and led her away, helped her into the elevator.

The ride was silent but he didn’t remove his hand, and she was so grateful for the stability. The doors chimed and they left the small cube, his hand propelling her toward the doors outside.

The sun was bright when they stepped out, brighter than those damn florescent lamps had been, and Rachel squinted against the brightness, her eyes blurring. Rachel waited for him to direct her towards the car, but he didn’t. Instead she heard him murmur, “C’mere,” as he headed toward the bench they’d sat on days ago. The bench where he’d held her and Beth and comforted her.

She sat down quickly, her lip quivering as she tried not to cry. But then he was next to her, pulling her to him, and she was sobbing, her chest heaving as she buried her nose into the collar of his t-shirt. “Shh, honey, it’ll be OK,” and the words should have soothed her, did a little, but the hot tears that fell onto her neck told her it wasn’t OK, not if he was crying, too.

Her body was twisted uncomfortably on the bench and she just wanted to be back in Shelby’s house, back on the couch. She wanted to swing her legs over and let him press her head against his softly beating heart, let the steady rhythm calm her.

But his was too fast then, matching hers, and it just elicited another sob from her chest. There were too many things she was grieving for, then; her delicate relationship with her mother, her sister, the family they’d cultivated, the intimate relationship they’d had in the confines of the apartment, the easy way he kissed her in Beth’s nursery, the way he’d looked at her and touched her, and the certainty that he would do it again.

Everything now was uncertain, tentative, and she wished she knew what he was grieving for. “Will,” she whispered against his skin, her sobs mellowing as she tried to focus on the feel of him beneath her hands, the breath that was blowing across her neck.

“You are so strong, Rachel,” he repeated the words from outside of the hospital room, and she pulled back, looked him in the eye. His own were searching her face, red rimmed and wet, and she bit her lip when he cupped her face.

Her eyes dropped down to his lips and she blinked, the pressure in her head causing her to sway a little. “I don’t think I can do this, Will.”

He sniffled and offered her a weak smile, his thumbs brushing her cheeks dry. “Rachel, you know—“ he looked away for a moment, over her shoulder, and then his hands were falling from her, he was sitting back up straight and clenching his jaw.

She turned quickly, followed her gaze and her eyes widened. “Jesse.”

He stood just a few feet away, his eyes narrowed as he took in the two of them. After a beat he stuck his hands into his pockets and stepped closer to them. Rachel shifted, tugging at her sweater to make sure her neck was covered.

Jesse looked at Will for a second, but then his eyes lingered on Rachel, sitting on the bench in front of him. “Did something else happen to Shelby? She just call—“

“She’s fine, she’s in room 306.” Rachel shifted, her hands in her lap twitching where they rested against Will’s hand. She felt his fingers brush her as they retreated to his own space, and she wiped at her cheeks.

“Shelby told me you took care of Beth.” The repeated use of her mother’s name echoed in Rachel’s head and she thought about Will, how she wanted the right to call him Will as easily as Jesse called her Shelby. Rachel wanted it, more than a lot of things, suddenly, and she looked over at Will.

“We both did.” He gave her a small smile, and she turned back to her ex-boyfriend. Taking a deep breath she thought about the tentative plan she’d made with Shelby, the need she felt to see Beth.

Her eyes narrowed and she took in Jesse’s expression, the way he seemed almost panicked at the sight of the two of them crying on the bench, and then she thought about the message she’d heard on the answering machine two nights ago, the desperation he’d had to speak to Shelby.

It hurt to think about him with her mother, hurt to think about how he’d played her, but right now all she wanted was to ensure her relationship with Beth, and lashing out at Jesse was not the best way to do that. She didn’t have to forgive him for what he did to her, how he treated her, but she had to admit that he seemed so true in his reactions to Shelby.

Blood was pumping through her veins quickly as she tried to let all of their history go, just for the moment, and focus on the fact that he might very well feel something for her mother. Rachel’s eyes slid to Will and she knew it would be hypocritical of her not to give them a chance, when that’s all she wanted for herself. Slowly she reached her hand over to rest on Will’s hand, and she looked at the wide eyes he was watching her with.

Rachel knew her face was open, displaying the feelings she clearly felt for the man sitting next to her, but she couldn’t care, not then. All she could think of was Will, and Beth, and the way she felt when they were all together. Looking over at Jesse, she wondered if the three of them felt like that normally—if he was living what they’d been playing at.

With a sigh she thought about Beth, upstairs, and how much love she had to give. “They’re both upstairs. You should go see her.”

Jesse scanned her face for a second, but then looked to Will, holding his gaze for a long moment. Looking down, he gave a half shrug before meeting Will’s eyes again and murmuring, “The heart wants what the heart wants, right?” The comment lingered as both men stared the other down.

Finally, Jesse stepped back with a nod, and left their sightline as he walked to the door. Rachel’s attention snapped back to Will, where he was staring at the ground with narrow eyes, a contemplative expression on his face.

The tears they’d both shed had dried in the time of the interaction between the three, and Rachel took a calming breath before she reached for his hand. “Will?”

“Are you ready to head home?” His expression was guarded, but there was something calming about the glint in his eye, and she nodded. “Home” was heavy with connotation, but she focused on the literal meaning, the drive back to Lima.

“Yes,” she offered a small smile and he stood, still holding her hand. Their walk to the parking garage was slow, and Rachel wrapped her free arm around her waist, her purse pressing tightly into her shoulder.

He held her hand the entire walk to the car, and she couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing, that without Beth they were a little bit empty. But as they caught sight of the car she thought about the idea of going back, of becoming nothing more than part of glee club, and she realized that part of that missing piece, along with Beth, was the ability to touch him like this, simple and public. The walk to the car was the walk to the noose, their relationship dying.

He dropped her hand and opened the door for her, the front seat. As she turned to get in she felt his hand on her hip. “No, Rach—“ she turned back to find him propped against the door frame, his expression pained. “Just,” his fingers tightened on her waist, the pressure reminding her of how he’d touched her back in the laundry room, all need and built up frustration.

His eyes closed a little, and he leaned in to her. “Until Lima,” he murmured, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth. Rachel said nothing, just let her own eyes close in anticipation. Instead of his mouth on hers she felt his warm breath across her cheek. “We can do that, we can have just a little longer, please.”

“Will,” and it was enough of an answer because he was kissing her deeply, his other hand coming to catch her around the waist as his tongue swiped across her mouth, asked for entrance. She gasped at the reawakened need in her and leaned against the closed back door of the car, felt him step closer into her as her fingers fisted into his t-shirt.

“Until Lima,” she murmured, grateful for the stay of execution. His own desperation as she felt his hands roaming her sides, her back, her arms was soothing, felt like the start of an answer to her questions. The way he asked her, almost begged her for a little longer was something, had to mean something. The way his thumb snuck under the hem of her sweater to brush her stomach had to mean something.

The way he murmured, “Rach,” as if she was his ultimate comfort had to mean  _something_.

Eventually he pulled back, once his fingers had tangled in her hair and her teeth had scraped the hard muscle at his neck. “We have to—“

“I know,” she sighed, and they both straightened the other slowly, grateful for the extended contact before she got into the car, shut her door as he walked around to the other side.

()()()

Their drive was silent to begin with, both unsure of how to proceed for the next few hours. But Rachel had caught him looking at her, the way his fingers would twitch on the steering wheel, and she looked down at her own resting on her knee.

Tentatively her hand had settled on his thigh, not too high but above the knee, and he settled, his back relaxing, his fingers on his right hand dropping to curl around hers, to hold her hand.

There were things she wanted to know, answers she needed from him, but in the car she didn’t know how to broach them. What would they do once they got back? How was he doing without Beth? What had last night been for him, exactly?

Rachel’s head started to swim and she thought about the moment in the bedroom, when he had told her Shelby was awake. She’d gripped her own phone so tightly, that—“I was supposed to call my dads,” she murmured, her eyes widening as she slipped her hand away from his.

She missed the warmth immediately, but she had to focus, to open her purse and pull out her phone. Another voicemail waited for her and she listened to it, quickly. “ _Rachel, you need to call us back now. We both need to hear from you, and we’re very worried. We’ve got a flight soon, so please check in quickly.”_

The message was from a while ago and she grimaced, but held the phone to her ear as she redialed. It went straight to voicemail and she sighed in relief, glanced at him quickly only to find a clenched jaw and tight fingers on the wheel again.

“Dad, I’m sorry it took so long to call you back. Shelby woke up and we went to the hospital to get everything sorted out.” Rachel gulped, and avoided mentioning Jesse, anything else that was unnecessary. She thought about heading back, and added, “Wi—Mr. Schuester and I are on our way back to Lima now, so we should be back in town late tonight.” She avoided looking at him, now, after calling him Mr. Schuester, acknowledging their real lives. “I love you both, have a safe flight.”

Rachel hung up the phone and sighed, before slipping it back into her purse. Taking in his stiff back, Rachel slid her hand to his thigh again and waited for him to relax like he had before.

This time, though, he just patted her hand and shifted, before murmuring, “I think we should stop to eat, soon.” Rachel nodded, confused at the sudden change. Her touch had comforted him so much before, and it hurt, that he would refuse her so suddenly.

They drove in silence for the next several miles, until they came across a small town diner and Will took the exit off of the highway, parking the car in front of the restaurant. He licked his lips and got out of the car, and Rachel followed him into the restaurant.

Will and Rachel had been driving for less than two hours, so it was just after the lunch rush when they got there, signaled by the mostly empty diner. Will looked over to a booth in the corner, and pointed, asking quietly, “Over there?”

Rachel nodded and waited for his hand to guide her forward. For a second she felt nothing, and her chest tightened. But then, so softly, he was touching her again, and she moved forward, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. They sat down across from each other quickly, and Rachel smiled at him hopefully.

His smile was tight, but after a moment he let out a small laugh, and gave her a bigger grin. The tension cracked a little, and Rachel sighed. They ordered quickly, a salad for her and a sandwich for him. “Thank you,” he said as the waitress turned to go behind the counter.

Neither party said anything as they drank their glasses of water, and Rachel began to get anxious. She thought back to all of those questions she’d had, how she’d tried to figure it out since last night, and finally just spoke softly, “Will?”

“Yes?” He knew what was coming, she could tell by the nervous dart of his eyes as his fingers tapped on the table.

“What happens now?” It was the question she’d asked in the laundry room again, and she furrowed her brow, shook her head. “In Lima, I mean.”

He licked his lips and she watched him shifting, before he took a deep breath and met her eyes. “It’s easy to forget, sometimes, Rachel.”

He leaned his forearms on the table, his shoulders hunching as he shook his head. “Forget what?”

“That you’re a student. My student.” He looked down with a pained look, and she reached across the table, about to rest her hand on his fist. She hesitated at the last minute, though, and thought back to his words in the hospital, the way he’d yelled at Shelby. She rested her hand, flat, next to his fist.

The confirmation of her status hurt, and she gulped, before muttering, “I didn’t realize that’s all I was.” He looked up, his face tight, and she thought back to that first conversation they’d had, the first time he’d spoken to her after a storm out of glee club. She thought about how she’d talked about a ticking clock, how she’d felt her life moving too quickly all the way back then.

“You think that’s how I see you? As  _just_  my student?” His fist opened a little and he started to reach for her hand. “That’s the problem, Rachel, I can’t—“ his hand drew back from her as the waitress came up to the table, and they both offered her a tight smile as they  thanked her and waited for her to leave.

She picked up her fork as she waited for him to continue, flipping leaves over each other with her eyes downcast. Finally, she heard him exhale, and when she tilted her head up he was watching her, his food uneaten and his expression worried. “You are an extraordinary person, Rachel. And I’m grateful I got to spend time with you, alone, to get to know you better.”

Rachel smiled at him, her eyebrows tilted in surprise, but also tentative hope. “Really?”

He breathed out through his nose and smiled, nodded as he took her free hand in his. “Really. You have to know that it meant something for me,” he seemed worried, and his eyes were searching her face. Talking about their relationship like this was thrilling but terrifying, and Rachel dropped her fork.

His words were encouraging but she couldn’t process them alone, not anymore. She needed to touch him, to feel him hold her, and she moved her hand away from his to scoot out of the bench and stand.

“Rachel, where…” his question trailed off as she slid into the booth with him, sat so she could look him in the eye, close enough now to feel his breath. She curled into him immediately, and when his arms encompassed her she let out a small sob of relief.

He was holding her like he had been all weekend, but his arms were firmer, tighter somehow, as if he refused to let her go this time. “What was this for you, exactly?” It was demanding, she was asking for specifics, but she needed them now. She needed to know what this was if she had any hope of figuring out what it could be, what  _they_  could be.

Rachel had told him just for the weekend, had promised him it was temporary, but trying to leave him today, not take his hand in the hospital room, call him Mr. Schuester on the phone, it was all too hard,  _so much_  harder than she’d expected it to be.

And the way he was holding her now, his fingers curled against her, his lips brushing her hair, she thought he might feel the same. They’d agreed to the weekend, but if he wanted more, if they could somehow manage to continue whatever they were, it would be impossible for her to not find out, not to try.

“Will?” She prompted, leaning her head back just enough to meet his eyes. “What—“

“It was some of the best days of my life, Rachel.” Her eyes softened as she smiled, wide, and a pressure left her chest when he returned the grin.

“Why?” She was digging, asking him for too much, but she couldn’t commit to someone again, only to have her heart broken. And it would be, she realized, suddenly. She cared for him so much now, was in love with the possibilities of a shared future between them, that she thought she might actually die if he didn’t feel the same.

“We were a family this weekend, you and me and Beth,” his eyes closed at Beth’s name, and she felt a similar jolt of pain in her own head. “It was sweet and easy, and everything I wanted when I married Terri.” His eyes were looking up at the bright ceiling, but when she brought her hand to his chest he looked down, smiled at her sweetly and tucked her hair back behind her ear.

“This weekend was a second chance for me, Rachel, when I didn’t realize I needed one.” He leaned down, then, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingered there a moment before pulling back. Will’s smile faded a little, and he brushed the hair away from her shoulder, not meeting her eyes as he asked, “What was it for you?”

Rachel hesitated. For her, it had been, “Partnership.” He looked up, then, his eyes wide with surprise. It made her nervous, and she wished she could take it back. She hadn’t wanted to scare him, but after his words she’d thought…

“Partnership?” Rachel tried to stay strong, stand her ground and she nodded.

“I’ve never shared with anyone, the way I’ve shared with you.” She was flushing, suddenly, thinking about both the sexual and non-sexual heavy connotations her words carried. Reluctantly she looked up at him, felt the way his fingers pressed harder into her.

“You saw me as a partner?” He was speaking in past tense and she wanted to shake her head, to say,  _no, I_ see _you as a partner_ , but she could only nod. Present tense would do them no good, not when he was her teacher and she was his student and they could not be together, at least not for a while.

“I wish we could—“

He cut her off with a nod, a sad smile and closed eyes. “Me too, Rachel.” She closed her eyes tightly at the disappointment, watched the fireworks behind her lids and sank into him. “You’re special to me, Rachel. You’ve been special. You know that, right?”

Pressure was building in her chest but she took slow, deep breaths and nodded. “You’re special to me, too, Will.” And it was mumbled into his shirt, but the way he brought her closer into him told her he’d understood her words.

It was hard, reconciling these mutual thoughts on their relationship with the knowledge that nothing could come of them. The pressure of losing Beth so recently was still weighing heavily, and she knew it would be the same for him.

The three of them, together on Shelby’s bed, singing, reading, caring about each other played behind her eyes, and she pulled back from his embrace. Turning, she leaned her head back against his chest and his arm draped over her shoulder. Taking his hand in hers, she asked, “If, in a few years we’re both—“

“In a heartbeat, Rachel.” He was cutting her off and she should have been irritated, but he was giving her the answer she wanted, hope for their future. It was a long ways off, she remembered with a pang in her chest, but it was more than they’d had a few hours ago.

They sat like that for a while, neither one eating, until Rachel slid from his embrace, so reluctantly, and sat back on her side. She ate quickly and he did the same, neither one absorbing the flavor so much as they were eating mindlessly, and Rachel realized they hadn’t eaten since the night before.

With a small clang she dropped her fork against the bowl and took a long drink of her water. Will pushed his plate away from himself and gave a weak smile. “Ready to go?”

She nodded and he stood, offered his hand to her. Rachel followed him to the register and he paid for their lunch quickly. As he did so she couldn’t help but think that, in a way, this was a date. It was their first date, and everything was out of order, none of this was following any plan she’d ever made, but if it meant that in a year’s time she could be with him,  _really_  be with him, she could learn to be a little disorganized.

He turned to her with a smirk and she let him guide her out of the diner, his hand on her back like it’d been a million times this weekend. At the door to the car he hesitated, waited for her to turn and look at him before he dropped his hands to his pockets and spoke, softly. “I want more of this weekend, Rachel. You know that, right? That I do, want you.”

Rachel leaned against the car and pulled at his shoulders, bringing him down for a kiss. Her mouth slid across his slowly, and her tongue swiped at his lips, his doing the same as he leaned into her.

When she finally let him pull back she thought about the Rolling Stones, her comment in the hospital, and she bit her lip. Rachel also thought about what Jesse said to him, and she ran a hand over his cheek. “Like Jesse said, the heart wants what the heart wants.”

He looked a little confused at that, and pulled back slightly, but nodded. “Shelby told me that, too, when I asked her if Jesse was a spy.”  _Like mother, like daughter_  floated again in her mind and she tried not to think about the fact that Jesse and Shelby had made it work, somehow, and were together now. She tried not to compare the two families, tried not to give herself too much hope that in a year they could do this, they could make it work.

But then Will reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek and she closed her eyes, let herself believe that he cared for her, he  _loved_  her as much right now as Jesse and Shelby cared about each other, loved each other, if not more. She couldn’t help but think that it made her and Will’s relationship even more possible.

Will kissed her again, sweetly, and whispered, “We have a long drive, Rach,” before he opened the door and helped her in, and got into the driver’s seat. The acknowledgment of their relationship being extended came in the nickname and she smiled, leaned her head against the doorframe.

When the car started Rachel felt him reach for her hand, take it in his and rest it gently on his leg as he pulled out of the diner parking lot and back onto the freeway.

They hadn’t decided anything, not really, but he had told her things she wanted to hear, needed to hear, and that gave her hope. She still wasn’t a viable option, she  _knew_  that. But, in a year or two or five?

All Rachel knew then was that she’d gotten a glimpse into a future with Will, a future with kids and a husband and a  _partnership_ , and that future had been amazing. That future had been everything both of them had been looking for, and she wouldn’t just give that up, not anymore.


	10. Epilogue

Rachel’s heels clicked on the tile of McKinley’s hallway, the sound echoing around her in the empty space. Rows of lockers surrounded her on either side, and she pulled the blue fabric tight around her as she shivered.

It wasn’t dark out, yet, but the sun was beginning to set, people dispersing to parties and family events and summer farewells. The school grounds were almost empty, most seniors more than ready to leave the school, but she couldn’t, not yet.

Her phone buzzed at her hip and she reached under the graduation gown for her pocket as she rounded the corner. With a pause she opened the text message.

_Congratulations, Rachel._

It was simple, the message from her mother, and she smiled. She’d invited Shelby, of course, asked her to bring Beth, but her invitation had met with a firm no, and Rachel hadn’t fought her on this point. Their relationship was still fresh and raw and mostly done over curt e-mails and text messages and, if Shelby was feeling especially generous, a phone call.

Still, having her mother acknowledge her, in such solid terms of her adulthood meant the world to the graduate, and Rachel replied quickly, before slipping her phone back in her pocket and looking up.

The hall lights were off, the sun shining through the windows, and it left Will’s office bathed in a soft light through the glass walls. The small room was almost empty, just a few boxes resting on his desk, and the sight made her pause.

“Mr. Schuester?” His formal name cut just as much as the first time back in this very building, and when he looked over she thought it did for him, too, judging by the way he stood, stiffly.

“Rachel, I thought you’d left already.” He smiled at her and leaned against the corner of his desk. Rachel took it as an invitation and stepped forward, through the door until she was just a foot in front of him.

“That was a beautiful speech, Rachel.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, not fully. She’d been “Rachel” for the past several months—they’d gotten more and more careful about blurring the lines after their near-relapse in late November, and he had stopped calling her anything else, even “Rach.” She knew he did it partly for himself, but mostly for her, to keep her from calling him “Will” out loud. Sometimes it irked her that he assumed she needed the reminder, but most days she was grateful because she did.

She shifted in front of him, pulling on the gold stole around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered. It had been beautiful—she’d spent months fine-tuning and making it perfect, and she was pleased, now, with the way it turned out.

Rachel’s speech hadn’t been about high school or college or clubs or friends or any of the drivel she’d written in her first draft of her valedictorian speech back in the summer before her sophomore year.

In fact, she’d caught the confused looks on most of the populations’ faces as she spoke about pain and struggle and wanting.

Her speech had been meant for everyone, when it came down to it, but she wrote it for herself, for Will, for their relationship. She could only hope he understood the message, understood that she hadn’t stopped forgetting about them all summer, all year, despite the attempts from both to remain appropriate.

That wasn’t to say they’d succeeded in staying appropriate. The first day back had been deceptively easy, their adrenaline keeping them from touching or kissing or holding each other in the middle of the choir room. But after a few days of no contact, of not touching or kissing or holding the fear had started to creep back in, the confusion of what exactly they wanted to be for each other and if they could make it work.

After that they’d discovered the key to staying appropriate was to never be alone with each other. Never. They’d learned that the last week of her junior year, when Rachel had handed him some sheet music in his office and looked him in the eye as their fingers brushed.

That softness, that longing look from Shelby’s apartment broke across his face and she’d leaned in to kiss him, to remind herself that yes, he wanted this as much as she did. They’d been stopped (saved, she realized) by a breeze slamming the choir room door shut, and she’d murmured an excuse as she left.

The summer had only served to make her doubt his feelings, question if he’d been caught up in the weekend with Beth. The frenzied make-out session in his office the first day of her senior year had reassured her.

Rachel’s phone buzzed again as she felt her cheeks warm from the memory, and she took it from the pocket of her dress. With a big grin she felt her eyes tear at the picture that came through, and she turned to show Will. His own expression matched hers and he laughed, his lips settling into the soft smile he’d tried to keep from her all year.

“She’s so big,” he murmured, and reluctantly handed the phone back, the screen still showing the now two and a half-year-old Beth, wearing a very small graduation cap. Rachel reached for the phone, her fingers closing around his and she froze.

 _This_ , she thought, her eyes widening, this was why she hadn’t touched him since November. Her eyes were open but she saw faint fireworks before she dropped her hand from his and slipped the phone back in her pocket.

“Mr. Schue, have you seen—“ Quinn rounded the corner of his office door and smiled. “There you are. Rachel, are you coming?” Rachel smiled back at the blonde and shook her head. It was strange, how their relationship had progressed fairly naturally over the past year. Progressed to the point of Quinn offering her a ride to Santana’s party.

“No, thank you, Quinn. I’ll be fine.” She thought about the picture of Beth on her phone and wanted to show her, knew Quinn would want to see it, but she had things to say to Will, and she couldn’t until Quinn left.

“OK, I’ll see you later, then?” Rachel nodded and Quinn offered her an easy smile before stepping into the office. Quinn looked hesitant but reached her arms out to hug Will. Rachel felt uncomfortable, watching her friend hug her teacher, but also watching Will hug another woman.

It was a feeling she hadn’t really had to experience since Ms. Pillsbury had stopped visiting Will or the glee club in mid-November, except for the occasions she’d catch him patting Tina on the shoulder or speaking close to Brittany, all the things he had to be so vigilant about not doing with her.

Quinn pulled back, and in the quiet room she heard a small sniffle before, “We’re all going to really miss you, Mr. Schue.” The kids had all sung their goodbyes the previous week, but Rachel knew each had also said their own, private goodbye over the course of the day. “McKinley’s really losing something, you know. But we all know you’re going to do so well working with April. We’ll be keeping tabs.”

Will smiled softly at Quinn, but Rachel noticed it was different, more like the way he looked at Beth, and her chest eased a little at the thought. “I know, Quinn. I will be, too.” When the blonde stepped back she squeezed Rachel’s arm quickly on her way out.

“Rachel?” She stopped and glanced at Will before meeting Rachel’s eyes. “If you don’t come over to Santana’s tonight, be sure to call me later, OK? We’ll hang out before you leave.” Rachel felt her eyes widen a little as she smiled.

“If I don’t come over?”

Quinn just looked back at Will before pulling her own gown tighter and murmuring, “It was a great speech, Rachel. Good advice, what the heart wants. I’ll keep it in mind,” she left, then, and Rachel felt her cheeks flush.

Turning back to Will she smiled, glad to be alone with him. He smiled back at her and she wondered why he looked so calm when she felt so, so nervous.

“I have something for you, Rachel.” He turned suddenly, leaned over to dig in his desk drawer and she was back in Shelby’s apartment that first night, him fumbling for a dropped sippy cup lid.

Before she could move he was back in front of her, holding out a small box with a bow. A flicker of nerves broke his calm air and she felt herself relax a little, knowing this was as tough for him as it was for her, this next step, whatever it would be.

“You didn’t have to do that, Mr. Schue,” she trailed off at the end, not sure if she should still be calling him that, if she still had to. But there’d been no formal acknowledgement of their promise to each other, their plan to give things a try again.

Still, she opened the paper and smiled at the box underneath, clearly opened at the top. “Camel free, Rach,” and it was a question as much of a statement when she looked up to his face. He was swallowing hard, his shoulders hunched forward as he searched her eyes.

She set the wrapping on the corner of his desk and her brows furrowed as she reopened the animal cracker box, pulled out two cookies and set the box down next to the gift wrap. It had been what she was waiting for, an invitation, permission, acknowledgement, and she looked up at him with damp eyes as she extended one hand with a polar bear cookie.

“Thank you, Will,” she spoke softly, and he took the cookie, but set it down next to the box, and took her hand in his instead. Her own cookie hung limp in her hand and she dropped it on top of his as she stepped closer to him.

It was over, this state of limbo they’d had to be in, and she was ready for her future, a possibility of being with him. Looking up into his eyes, she leaned in, held her breath as he did the same.

His lips were as soft as she’d remembered, passionate but gentle, and she sighed into his open mouth as his fingers pressed gently into their spot on her lower back. Her own palms pressed into his chest, and when he finally let go of her he brushed her hair away from her neck, trailed his fingers over the spot on her neck where she’d been left with a bruise for days after they’d had to stop being together.

“God, I missed being able to touch you, honey,” it was simple and easy to fall back into, something she’d never had with anyone else, and she smiled, contented.

She kissed him again, softly, and when she pulled back, she asked, “What was this year for you, Will?”

He chuckled, low, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “A struggle.” She looked up at him, then, and kissed him once more, just because she could, the memory of being at that podium, seeing him sitting in the front row playing with fireworks behind her eyes.

*

_My fellow Class of 2012:_

_For a lot of us these past four years have been hard, a lot of work. We’ve struggled with classes and exams, we’ve struggled to make friends, to fit in, and we’ve struggled with relationships. And for most of us it hasn’t gotten better. That A+, that lunch table, that prom crown we pushed so hard for. These things helped but they didn’t heal._

_Because most of us were only fighting ourselves over the years. We were fighting those feelings, those urges and desires we had. We fought our individualism to fit in so we could have friends, and we fought our feelings because other people told us we shouldn’t have them._

_We fought, and argued, and warred with ourselves for four years. It hurt, and drained us, and it was uphill the whole way, but if we ever wavered there was someone or something there to stop us from giving up._

_And this struggle, this uphill battle made us all who we are today. People come and go in your lives, events pass and things happen, but what really changes us is ourselves. It’s when we look inside, look at what and why we’re fighting that we learn the most about ourselves. It’s when we look inside that we discover we don’t want to fight anymore._

_There is one truth, one unchangeable realization that we’ll all come to, when we’re wearied from fighting ourselves, exhausted from trying to change: The heart wants what the heart wants._

_When we realize this, this unchangeable fact about ourselves, all the struggling, all the fighting and crying and hurting we’ve spent years on will seem like a waste. We’ll think back to the first inkling we had that we wanted something and wonder, “What if I had been brave enough, what if I had accepted what I instantly knew?”_

_We’ll think back over the years of pain and curse it, wish it away, pray for a second chance to do it all differently._

_But, that’s the thing about the struggle. Sometimes it’s necessary to climb that mountain, to go up that hill. Sometimes that fight is all you need to get perspective and to realize what it was you wanted all along._

_And when you reach that point, when you step foot on the top of that hill, tired and broken and in pain, the struggle will seem so unnecessary, such a waste of time._

_Remember, then, that the struggle was what got you there. That the time wasn’t wasted, that the effort needed to be exerted. Because the things that are worth it, the people that you really want, they’re all worth the struggle, the fighting._

_Remember that the fighting only makes you who you are, only reinforces things you already knew. Remember that once you reach that thing, that person you are fighting for, it’ll all be worth it. Remember that the heart wants what the heart wants, even if it takes a little while to get there._


End file.
